Eli’s makeshift solar lights cast a yellowish glow over our rice and beans, but I couldn’t focus on the meal. My mind was stuck on bills, especially after an unexpected $75 urgent care visit.
Eli barely ate, and I asked, “You didn’t eat lunch again, did you?” His tired look said it all.
“I wasn’t hungry,” he replied.
“Eat something,” I urged, but he forced a bite.
He sighed, pushing food around. “More bills. The guy I’m helping with electrical work keeps avoiding me.”
We were sinking. Bills piled up—rent, student loans, and another bill just arrived.
Eli found a broken laptop to fix, hoping to sell it for $200. We only made $150, but it helped.
Then came a disaster: Eli ruined a client’s computer. Overwhelmed, I snapped. “I can’t do it all, Eli. I’m so tired.”
Eli left, and I spent the evening crying. When he returned, he apologized, and we promised to be a team again.
Eli collapsed from stress, landing in urgent care. Later, I applied for an admin job. A week later, I got it.
Two weeks later, we bought fresh food. Eli cried. “We can eat real food.”
The next night, our apartment finally felt like home.
Six weeks into my job, we sat down for a real meal. Eli was healthier, and I realized we were finally starting to enjoy life again.
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