Food Line

Photo by Joel Muniz on Unsplash

“Mommy, why aren’t we going? I want to go home,” whined three-year old Jorge. He squirmed in his car seat and pulled at the straps.

“I know you do, but we have to get some groceries. Remember, Mommy doesn’t have enough money for the store right now.” Maria watched him in the rearview mirror.

A horn honked from behind. She looked out the windshield and noticed the car in front of her had moved several yards. She eased off the brake and coasted forward until she closed the gap. She waved to the driver in the car behind them. The man flipped her the bird. Nice. We’re in the middle of a crisis and he’ has to be a jerk, she thought.

“Mommie!” Jorge shrieked. “I want out.” He pushed at the buckle.

“Here, why don’t we watch a cartoon. Do you want to watch ‘Thomas the Train’ or Handy Manny?”

Jorge briefly stopped squirming and glared at her with anger reminiscent of Luis. That’s the look that meant, ‘keep pushing me woman and I’ll give you something to remember who’s in control’. Of course, he thought he was always right. The look disappeared and her sweet son reappeared. “Manny? I like Manny.”

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