“Oh, I see.” So now you’re replacing me with a new version of me, but without stretch marks or school bags. Look, Miguel, I could give you your money back… but you know what? Consider it a down payment on 12 years of imaginary debt. Because if you do the math, you’re saving yourself a lot. In fact, you’re practically getting me a deal.
He read. He didn’t reply. He never transferred me any more money.
But that night, I cooked breaded cutlets. With potatoes. And I even opened a Coca-Cola. Because you don’t live on dignity alone. You also live on small bank victories.
— A little message for my followers:
If you’ve made it this far, thank you.
I publish stories for free because life is already expensive; reading shouldn’t be.
But if you could offer me a symbolic “coffee” (a like, a comment, a share), you’d help me more than my morning coffee buddy.
I’m a mom, a writer, and a financial expert.
Thank you for being here, for reading… and for not leaving me to write alone.
