“They’re eighty-five dollars at the store in the mall,” she said, her index finger tracing the edge of the touchpad.

I sat down on the edge of the mattress next to her and looked at the silver shoes against the white background.

“Those are really pretty, Sadie,” I said.

“Dad said we could go to the store with the real leather insoles,” she said, her voice lifting with an excitement I hadn’t heard from her in weeks.

“The kind that don’t pinch your toes after an hour.”

She’d tucked the thrift store dress away, out of sight behind her winter coats.