The morning began the way so many others had — with quiet effort and careful pretending. In a small diner, beneath flickering fluorescent lights and the steady hum of tired machinery, a mother and her son sat across from one another, trying to stretch warmth and patience to cover what money could not. Their voices were soft. Their movements were measured. Every decision carried weight, every glance held calculation. When the waitress mentioned cake, the boy shook his head quickly. Not because he didn’t want it, but because wanting had learned to feel dangerous. Desire, when unmet, could turn into...
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