The Price of a Pot
Language: en
Three years after our divorce, I reunited with Caleb on the streets of Seattle. I was a volunteer handing out cold medicine, and he was a homeless man who had fallen below the poverty line. Ironically, our divorce... Was over a cooking pot. "Twice a day, two pills each time." I handed him the medicine, my tone as calm as if talking to a stranger. Caleb's eyes turned red. "Lily, you still hate me." I didn't look up, continuing to distribute the medicine. "This medicine costs $10. It's cheap. But back then, it forced me to sell my plasma." "Caleb, how can I not hate you?"