door open to push jeremy's stroller through and i walked past the table where will lead these figured mincy stacks of nylon panties. i presented the voucher to a salesman. he was middle-aged, balding with a tie holding the on button the collar of his shirtsleeves dress shirt together. no, he said, we don't have a crib for that price. but you have to, i said. no, we don't. he started to walk away. she turned back. this voucher the welfare office has you down as having a crib for this price. he looked down with the fluorescent light leaning on his forehead. one side of his upper lip curling. we don't. we used to it costs more now. she turned away. i stood their gripping the handle of jeremy's stroller not sure what to do. a social worker had been very clear she was not allowed to change the voucher no matter what the circumstances, not even if the store raised their prices. it was this voucher or nothing and i couldn't make up the difference in the price for the caveat on the culture. all my childhood training came back to me. all those good little girls don't make a fuss at monitions told me