Santana
I’ve spent all morning trying to find a job with no luck. I’ve gone online and walked to a few shops with my resume in hand, but no one is hiring. Depression chokes me at the thought that Connor and I can lose the little bit we have. After hours of endless dead ends, I dejectedly make my way back home. Connor will be home from school soon. Saddened by the thought of going home empty-handed, I take a walk and clear my head. I don’t want Connor to see my look of hopelessness. I feel stupid walking around, holding my old worn blue, knit sweater tightly around my chest as the chill of the air penetrates my bones. The neighborhood is pretty active at this time. People are milling the streets, and kids are running around like a pack of wild dogs. Hopefully, they’re not looking for troub
