They were glossed over with tears and snot. Little squeaks escaped her panting chest. Her hands fluttered like pale nestlings not knowing how to fly. ...hen she sniffed. She pulled the back of her hands over her nose and eyes. They left streaks of make up. Her eyes sparkled in a dramatic frame of ruined mascara."I... I am so sorry, Mistress", she whispered. Her voice was hoarse. It still choked on the afterquakes of her emotions. "I... I let you down... I am not worthy... I..."The wet slap rang. Smiles lit a good many of the faces. All were clothed, sheltered—at least for the moment—and about to be fed. They lived for today, not knowing what tomorrow would bring. Yet they had kind words and often breathtaking depths of generosity for one another. Most literally would give you the shirts off their backs. Nia had witnessed it on many occasions. Earlier, Imani had taken the toddlers to the showers while their parents or older siblings rooted through the boxes of clothing donations. Socks,. More

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