“What’s wrong today?” I said. “Running out of rice?”
For the first time, he tried to pull the bag back.
“Please, Logan,” he said, voice shaking. “Not today.”
That hesitation did something ugly inside me.
I felt powerful.
I shook the bag upside down in front of everyone.
No food fell out.
Just a hard piece of plain bread.
And a folded note.
The Laugh That Died in My Throat
I laughed loudly.
“Careful!” I shouted. “That bread might break your teeth!”
A few laughs followed—but weaker than usual.
Something felt off.
I picked up the note, expecting another excuse to mock him. I unfolded it and read out loud, exaggerating every word.
“My dear son,
**Forgive me. Today I couldn’t find enough for butter or cheese. I skipped breakfast this morning so you could take this bread with you. It’s all we have until I get paid on Friday. Eat it slowly so it lasts longer. Study hard. You are my pride and my hope. I love you with all my heart.
—Mom.”
My voice faded before I reached the end.
Silence Fell Like a Weight
The playground went quiet.
Not awkward quiet.
Heavy quiet.
The kind where no one breathes.
I looked at Evan.
He was crying silently, hands covering his face—not from sadness.
From shame.
I looked down at the bread.
That wasn’t trash.
That was his mother’s breakfast.
That was hunger turned into love.
And for the first time in my life, something inside me cracked.
The Full Stomach That Felt Empty
My own lunch sat untouched on a nearby bench—leather bag, imported juice, gourmet sandwiches prepared by someone paid to care more than my parents did.
I didn’t even know what was inside it.
My mother hadn’t asked about my day in three days.
My father hadn’t been home all week.
Continue reading…
