ADVERTISEMENT
ADVERTISEMENT
ADVERTISEMENT
It wasn’t bulky or clunky like most strollers you see.

She walked past me. Her coat was tailored to perfection, a deep brown that looked like it cost more than my entire wardrobe. Her designer heels clicked against the pavement with that kind of sound that just makes you feel… poor.
I shifted Anne’s weight in my arms, pressing her small body closer to mine as I tried to shake off the moment. My baby girl, barely four months old, squirmed, letting out a tiny cry.
“Shh, it’s okay,” I whispered, trying to comfort both of us. I couldn’t afford to daydream about other people’s problems. Mine were already too much to handle.
Continue reading…
ADVERTISEMENT