I Finally Took My Ex-Husband’s “Three-Thousand-Dollar” Card to the Bank—Then the Manager Brought Out an Envelope with My Name
I smiled at the page.
“Yes. You can.”
After the call, I pulled my old budget from beneath the rent notice.
It assumed I would keep working both jobs.
It assumed I could stretch meals, postpone expenses, and stay well enough not to disturb the arithmetic.
The arithmetic hadn’t been foolish.
The assumptions had become impossible.
I tore the page into four pieces and began another.
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