I tried to respond, but she kept going.
“She almost passed out in gym. They told her to eat better—but how is she supposed to do that when there’s nothing to eat?”
That stopped me.
I sank into a chair, the kitchen suddenly feeling tighter. I had been stressing over stretching one meal…
and this girl had nothing at all.
“I told her to come back tomorrow,” Sam added, more quietly.
I exhaled, the tension leaving me.
“Okay,” I said. “Then we’ll make more.”
The next day, I cooked extra—not easily, but deliberately. Still measuring, still adjusting—but this time, making space on purpose.
She came back.
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