She tucked the chain into her pocket and began walking toward the city lights, ignoring the ache in her legs and the cold creeping into her bones. She had no family to call and no place to go, but she knew one thing with absolute certainty. That child would not die tonight.
When the baby cried again from hunger, Kayla stopped beneath the awning of a closed storefront and counted her money. Crumpled bills and coins barely enough for a cheap meal. She looked down at the infant’s searching mouth, clenched her fist around the money, and turned toward the pharmacy that stayed open all night.
Inside, the warmth stung her skin. The clerk’s eyes hardened the moment she saw Kayla.
“Leave,” the woman said sharply. “We do not help beggars.”
“I am not begging,” Kayla replied, shielding the baby. “I am paying.”
She opened her hand. After a long pause, the clerk pointed toward the back shelves. Kayla scanned the prices, her chest tightening as she realized how little her money could buy. She chose the smallest tin of formula, knowing it would leave her with nothing. When she came up short at the counter, panic set in, but the clerk hesitated, sighed, and pushed the tin toward her.
“Go,” she muttered.