All he could think about was the empty kitchen.
After the final bell rang, Adam walked toward Maple Street.
He had only thirty-seven cents in his pocket.
He counted the coins three times, hoping somehow that he had made a mistake.
But the amount never changed.
Thirty-seven cents.
Not enough for bread.
Not enough for medicine.
Not enough for anything that mattered.
When he reached the grocery store, he stood outside for several minutes.
Through the window, he could see shelves filled with food.
Fresh fruit.
Cartons of milk.
Loaves of bread.
Packages of rice.
To anyone else, it was an ordinary neighborhood store.
To Adam, it looked like a world he could no longer afford to enter.
He pushed open the door.
A small bell rang overhead.
The store owner, Mr. Collins, stood behind the counter, checking inventory.
Adam walked slowly toward the bakery shelf.
He picked up a loaf of bread.
