My daughter filled three shopping carts, and when the cashier announced the total was 980 dollars, she ordered me in front of everyone, “Pay. It’s the least you can do for living with us.” I closed my wallet, said “No,” and walked away without arguing. She still didn’t know that later that night, I would stop paying for something far more important than groceries.

When Mrs.

Higgins told me the monthly rent price, I almost laughed out loud with relief.

I could easily pay for it using just my monthly pension, with plenty of money left over for healthy groceries, my daily prescriptions, bus tickets, and the occasional ball of soft yarn.

I happily signed the lease agreement on the spot.

Mrs.

Higgins handed me a single, shiny brass key.