The storefront was narrow, wedged between a laundromat and a nail salon. The bell above the door chimed when Charlotte pushed it open, the sound bright in the dusty air.
The realtor trailed behind her, clipboard in hand. “It's small," she said.
“It's enough," Charlotte replied.
“You'll have to paint, fix that light—"
“I'll do it," Charlotte said, already measuring the space with her eyes. “I'll take it."
The realtor blinked. “You don't even want to negotiate?"
Charlotte smiled faintly. “The door opens. That's all I need."
---
Three weeks later, the walls were pale green, sunlight pooling in the front corner like it had been waiting for her. A secondhand desk sat beneath the window; shelves lined the walls, stocked with bandages, vitamins, and clean jars.
On opening day, Mrs. Nguye
