I was broke—truly broke—and had just received my food stamp card. That small piece of plastic felt like both a lifeline and a reminder of how far I had fallen. At the grocery store, I carefully gathered about eight dollars’ worth of food: a loaf of bread, some soup, and a few basics to stretch through the week.
Standing in line, I opened my wallet and saw the lone twenty-dollar bill tucked inside. It was all I had left in the world. Just looking at it made my chest tighten.I slipped it back into place and pulled out the card instead. When my turn came, I swiped the card and waited for the familiar beep. Instead, the clerk frowned at the screen, then looked at me with an apologetic expression.
