As the door creaked shut behind him, the little shop fell silent. Wendy exhaled shakily, and Clark sank into a chair as though a great weight had pressed him down.
"I'm… I'm so sorry, Vonjo," Clark said finally, his voice low with shame. "You shouldn't have done that. That was your money… and we're just… we're just a burden to you now."
Vonjo shook his head, his expression softening. "Don't say that. You two fed me when I was nothing. You gave me a place to sit when I had nowhere to go. This—" he gestured toward the door "—is nothing in comparison. Money comes and goes. I'm just glad I got here in time."
Wendy's eyes glimmered with unshed tears. "We… we didn't want you to see this. Things have been hard. Ever since the new collectors came, they've doubled and tripled the tax. Business is slow, but they don't care. We've sold our savings, our old heirlooms… if this keeps up, we'll lose the stall."
