neighborhood.
I placed my notebooks and receipts on her desk and began explaining everything too quickly.
The workshop.
The deposits.
The machines.
The house.
The retirement plan.
She waited until I finished.
Then she asked me two questions.
“How much money do you actually want to earn every month?”
I hesitated.
“And how many hours can you work without making the pain in your hands worse?”
That question stopped me completely.
I had calculated delivery times.
Meters of fabric.
Hours of sewing.
Customer deadlines.
But my own body only entered
