Then I looked at Brittany.
“No, Harold. I think I’ve had enough.”
I reached beneath my seat and opened my handbag.
Inside was Emily’s little gift.
A bright pink tub of children’s slime, filled with glitter.
It was supposed to be a silly present for a twelve-year-old girl.
I had bought it because I remembered what it felt like to be a child, and because I knew that sometimes the smallest things could make a difficult day brighter.
Now, however, I was looking at a woman who seemed determined to make everyone else’s day miserable.
I took a hundred-dollar bill from my wallet.
Then I leaned slightly forward and let it drift to the floor near Brittany’s feet.
“Sweetheart,” I said, “I think you’ve dropped something.”
She looked down immediately.
“What?”
She spotted the bill, reached for it, and slipped it into her handbag.
“Thanks.”
I raised my eyebrows.
“You’re welcome.”
