“You don’t have to do that,” I begin, but I’m already handing over the box and the duffel with the boxes of costume jewelry as fast as I can.

She types quickly into her computer and prints out a receipt for me. “I’ll put together a more specific inventory as soon as I have a chance, but whatever sells, I’ll send you a check at the end of the month, okay?”

Stupidly, I blink at the paper. I don’t know why I thought I’d walk out of here with cash in hand, but I can hardly take all the stuff back from her now, can I? What would I even do with it? She’s watching me carefully as I fold up the paper and tuck it into my wallet to make sure it doesn’t get lost.

“Jewelann, is everything all right?”

I find a smile. “Absolutely. Just, you know, hoping to get a little spare cash as soon as possible. Is there any way to maybe find out before the end of the month if anything’s sold?”

“I get it. Christmas shopping, am I right?” Marlene laughs.

I don’t shop for Christmas, but I don’t bother to correct her. “Please.”

“I’ll do what I can. But …” She clears her throat a little uncomfortably. She makes a small gesture at the Etienne Aigner wallet I’ve set on the counter while we spoke. “If you’re willing to part with that piece, I’ve been looking for one like it to match a handbag I already have. I’ll buy it from you right now.”

This wallet was meant for me. I found a hundred dollar bill in it. I was going to flip it, but I kept it, because it was supposed to be mine, it is mine.

My hands shake as I empty out the contents of the wallet and dump them straight into my bag. Photos, credit cards, a five dollar bill, a couple of quarters I save for when I go to the cheap grocery store that makes you pay to rent a cart.

She offers me thirty dollars.

I take it.

I shove the bills, a crisp twenty and a soft, worn ten, into my pocket, since I no longer have a wallet to put it in. I leave her shop with empty hands, the first time I’ve ever done that. Stepping out into the dimming gray sky, I blink upward at the soft drift of fat snowflakes. First snow.

I wait to feel unburdened, or at least proud of myself, but my chest hurts. When I look at myself in the rearview mirror, I’m startled to see the bloom of black-and-blue around my eye and a small cut high on my cheekbone that is also bruising. No wonder Marlene took pity on me. I’m pathetic, but I’m not going to let myself stay this way.

I used to fear Ken leaving me, but now he’s done exactly what I always worried about. Instead of terror, sharp relief cuts through me. I have hit the bottom. The only way out from here now is up.