Three Baby Cribs and a Missing Set of Car Keys
After my mother left, I stood in the kitchen under the yellow light of the range hood. The silence of the house felt wider now, expanding into every corner of the empty rooms.
I opened the pantry door and began lining up the silver cans of baby formula on the shelf.
There were only four cans left.
Formula cost thirty-six dollars a can at the grocery store down the street, and three babies went through a can every two days. I took a small notepad from the drawer and wrote down the numbers, multiplying them by the weekly needs of three growing babies.
The math was unforgiving.
My personal savings account held less than eight hundred dollars, a small fund I had kept from my old job before the triplets were born.
If I had to pay for the movers and the initial repairs on Elm Lane, every dollar would be gone before the end of the month.
I tapped the pen against the notepad, looking at the total.
My phone buzzed on the counter beside the stove, the screen lighting up the dark kitchen.
