aging car, stopped purchasing lunch at work, declined a girls’ trip to Charleston, and accepted extra shifts.
I’d told myself those sacrifices were responsible choices.
The following day, Rebecca examined my spreadsheet.
“You checked this?”
“Four times.”
“How do you feel?”
I considered the question.
“The scary part isn’t that I spent eighty-two thousand dollars.”
“What is?”
“That I don’t remember ever believing I was allowed to say no.”
Three days after my departure, Paige sent a text.
Can you reactivate mine just for tonight? I have a payment due.
