The stadium had already made room.
Unfortunately, someone else was about to decide he shouldn’t have it.
For that moment, every skipped meal felt worth it.
Then we reached our section.
A man and woman were sitting in our seats.
The man looked to be in his late forties, maybe early fifties. Expensive jacket. Heavy watch. The kind of polished casual clothes that probably cost more than my monthly grocery budget.
His wife had placed a large designer purse directly inside the open wheelchair space.
That was the part I couldn’t get past.
A man and woman were sitting in our seats.
They hadn’t accidentally taken two empty seats.
They had looked at a space designed for a wheelchair and decided a handbag needed it more.
I checked our tickets even though I knew exactly where we belonged.
“Excuse me,” I said.
The man glanced up.
“These are our seats.”
