“I know,” Mara whispered under her breath. “I know.”
Inside, the store was bright and cold. The air conditioning hit her skin like a slap after the heat outside. She grabbed a cart and started down the aisles slowly, because fast wasn’t an option anymore.
The cart rattled as if it had its own opinions about being pushed by someone with a spine that felt like a bent nail. Mara picked items with the focus of a person defusing a bomb.
Generic bread. Not the kind Tyler liked.
Store-brand peanut butter.
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