You know sometimes you just… you gotta do something even if it feels WRONG. Like when you see a stray dog and it looks starving and you know you shouldn’t feed it cause it’s not yours but you just CAN’T help it? Yeah. It’s kinda like that but way more complicated. And with people. Not dogs. (I love dogs though, don’t get me wrong.) So you know how it is in a small town, right? Everyone knows everyone’s business. Like, you can’t even sneeze without Mrs. Henderson from down the road asking if you’re catching something. And our family, well, we’re kinda known for… not having a lot. Ever since Dad lost his job at the mill and then he just… left. Mom tries. She really does. But rent here is still a lot, even in our crummy old trailer. And the government housing stuff? It’s what keeps a roof over our heads. It’s not much, but it’s ours. Mostly. Anyway, there’s this lady, Mrs. Gable. She lives a few houses down, got a big garden and always gives us tomatoes. She’s real nice. Like, too nice sometimes. She knows we struggle, everyone does. And one day, a few months ago, she just… shows up. With a grocery bag. And she says, "Oh, just some extra stuff I had, didn't want it to go bad." But it was fancy stuff, like real butter and good coffee and even some steaks. And then she started leaving cash. Not a lot, just like a twenty here, a fifty there. Tucked it under a rock by the porch, or in the mailbox. Mom would find it and just kinda stare at it. I think she knew it was Mrs. Gable. We all did. But nobody said anything. Cause sometimes you just NEED it, you know? Like, really, REALLY need it. And then last week, the social worker lady, Ms. Davies, she came by. She’s nice too, in her own way. Asks a lot of questions. And she was talking about the housing and all the rules. And she said something about "unauthorized income" and how that could mess everything up. And suddenly it hit me. Like a ton of bricks. Mrs. Gable’s money. It’s unauthorized income. And if they find out… we lose the trailer. We lose EVERYTHING. I could barely breathe. Mom just kept nodding and smiling at Ms. Davies like everything was fine. But it’s NOT fine. Now I can’t stop thinking about it. Do I tell Mom? Do I tell Mrs. Gable to stop? (But what if she gets mad? Or what if she thinks we’re ungrateful?) Or do I just… pretend I don’t know? You know that feeling when you’re watching a car crash in slow motion and you can’t look away but you can’t do anything to stop it either? That’s how it feels. And it’s my fault too, cause I knew. We all knew. And now we’re just… waiting. Like what happens if they find out? Where do we even go? I just feel so sick about it all. Like, why can’t things just be easy for once? Just once.