Zero
Zero dollars because the last bit went to the food that now digest slowly in our stomachs.
As it was sliding down my hungry throat, I thought, "This is it, this is the end."
It rains.
And it rains.
Similar to the steady flow of hopelessness that streams from my daughter's sad eyes.
Our hair is dirty, our fingernails black.
We have zero options.
Mother? How am I one?
My child is hungry, and is sleeping on a broken-down box in a public bathroom.
We may have escaped the frigid rain, but this life we cannot escape from.
Zero dollars, zero food, zero home.
How did we come to this?
I have lost myself in disappointment, for I have failed my child.
Zero hope.