A woman who was pregnant once walked into our bakery just before closing. Her clothes were worn, her hands trembling, and her eyes full of quiet desperation. She asked if she could have a piece of bread—anything, really—because she hadn’t eaten all day. For illustrative purposes onlyShe had no money, yet I gave her a fresh loaf. She smiled with a kind of fragile gratitude, then reached into her hair and handed me a simple metal hairpin. “You’ll need this one day,” she whispered. I didn’t understand, but I thanked her anyway. The owner saw everything and fired me on...
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