I had to walk because there was no money left for a bus.

The rain had softened to mist, but the wind cut through my gloves.

By the third block, my shoes were wet to the socks.

At home, Mrs.

Avery was waiting on our landing.

She took one look at my face, the damp stroller, and the empty pockets I was turning out for my keys.

“Whatever happened,” she said, “come inside.

I made too much stew.”