The formula can was empty.
Clara Whitmore shook it one more time, even though she already knew what she would find.
Nothing.
She turned the can upside down and tapped the bottom against her palm. A tiny trace of powder clung to the plastic, so little that it was almost insulting. She tried again anyway.
Nothing fell out.
On the counter beside her, the overhead light flickered for the third day in a row. Clara had been meaning to replace the bulb, but there were more important things to spend money on.
Like food.
Like rent.
Like baby formula.
In her arms, eight-month-old Lily whimpered.
It was not the loud, angry cry of a baby demanding attention. It was softer than that. Weaker. The exhausted cry of a child who had been hungry for too long.
Clara closed her eyes.
“I know, sweetheart,” she whispered, bouncing Lily gently. “Mom’s working on it.”
Her voice cracked on the last word.
Outside the apartment, fireworks began exploding somewhere in the distance.
New Year’s Eve.
Across New York City, people were preparing to count down to midnight. Restaurants were packed. Champagne was being poured. Couples were kissing. Friends were making promises about the year ahead.
People were talking about gym memberships, vacations, new careers, new relationships, and all the things that felt important when you weren’t standing in a tiny apartment wondering how you were going to feed your child.
Clara looked down at Lily.
Then she opened her wallet.
Three dollars and twenty-seven cents.
She checked again.
Still $3.27.
The cheapest formula cost $18.
The sensitive-stomach formula Lily needed cost $24.
Clara had done the math so many times that she could calculate it without thinking.
She had $3.27.
She needed $24.
There was no version of that equation that ended well.
Her phone buzzed on the counter.
Clara glanced at it.
Another notification about her overdue rent.
Twelve days.
Final notice.
She turned the phone facedown.
For a moment, she simply stood there, holding Lily and staring at the dark window.
From her apartment in the Bronx, she could see part of Manhattan if she leaned toward the glass and craned her neck.
