There is no wire transfer in the world worth what it was worth to me to watch that.

Afterward, in her kitchen, I noticed a wire basket on her counter, filled with fruit and bread and snacks, out in the open.

She saw me looking.

“I still like having food out where I can see it,” she said, softly.

Then she opened a drawer, and it was empty but for utensils.

Nothing hidden.

Nothing squirreled away against a hunger that would never come again.

And then she asked me something.