Lost in the dark

For Dora

Time has a strange way of healing without asking permission.

Before I realized it, Dora was no longer the tiny baby I carried everywhere. She was now one year and six months old, walking with unsteady steps, calling my name in sounds that melted my heart, laughing at the smallest things. Every day, she reminded me why I had survived.

*Mama* she often calls me

The business was growing.

Not suddenly, not magically—but steadily. More customers came. Shelves filled faster. Coins turned into notes. I learned how to plan, how to save, how to stretch profit without starving myself or my child. I became stronger without noticing it.

The old woman nearby—quiet, observant, kind—helped when she could. Sometimes it was advice. Sometimes it was supplies I hadn’t been able to buy yet. Sometimes it