Maria Torres counted the same six dollars three times before she handed it to the cashier.
It wasn’t much. But it was what stood between her son Eli and another Michigan winter without a real coat. The one he’d worn last year had a broken ali zipper and sleeves that stopped at his wrists. This one — navy blue, slightly faded, a little heavier than it looked — would do.
She didn’t think twice about it. Thrift store coats didn’t come with stories. They came with stains you had to check for, and zippers you had to test twice.
