offered a small, ordinary joy—a toy, salty fries, a drink with too much sugar. It wasn’t enough to fix their lives, but it was enough to interrupt the script of scarcity for one night. The girl’s laughter didn’t solve anything, but it changed something. It said, “We are worth this moment.” And sometimes, the most radical thing we can give each other is not rescue, not recognition, but a brief, unconditional taste of being gently, quietly seen.
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