The whole world stopped. People in line got quiet and turned to look.
I was too upset to cry.
“For all that I’ve done for you?” was all I could say.
“It’s not about you,” Marla said, bawling at the ticket window.
“Two for The Express,” I told the gum-popping cashier.
When the cashier asked for twenty dollars, I instinctively went for my wallet, then hesitated, not sure I should go in.