The formula can was empty. Clara Whitmore shook it one more time as if hoping might make something appear. Nothing did. She set it down on the counter of her studio apartment in the Bronx where the overhead light had been flickering for 3 days because she couldn’t afford a new bulb. In her arms, 8-month-old Lily whimpered.
That quiet, exhausted …
👇 👇 👇 👇 👇
