I never imagined that a five-dollar purchase could rewrite the story of my life. Yet the day I slipped those tiny leather shoes onto my son’s feet — and heard that strange crackling sound — was the day fate quietly knocked on my door.
My name is Claire, I’m 31, a single mother, and every morning I wake up hoping the day will be kinder than the one before. I juggle waitressing shifts at a small-town diner, care for my bedridden mother, and raise my little boy, Stan, who is three and full of wonder.
