When I got home from school one afternoon, my mom called and asked if I could bring her some food to work. She hadn’t been given lunch. We had almost nothing in the fridge—just some vegetables—so my sister and I made a simple salad. We were hungry too, but we packed it into a container, put it in a bag, and headed to her work. When we arrived, I realized she wasn’t alone. Her coworker, Mrs. Danika, sat beside her in the breakroom, rubbing her temples. She was in her mid-50s, soft-spoken, always wearing big hoop earrings that clinked faintly...
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