I stared at the stack of unpaid bills on my fold-out table, each one a reminder of how quickly life could spiral. The collection agencies had started calling again. Three times that day alone.

I picked up my phone, thumb hovering over Mom’s number out of habit, before remembering. Six months. It had been six months since I had anyone to call.

My neighbor’s TV droned through the wall, some cheerful holiday movie about family reunions and Christmas miracles. I turned up my radio to drown it out, but the Christmas carols felt like salt in an open wound.

“Just keep breathing, Liora,” I whispered to myself, Mom’s favorite advice when things got tough. “One day at a time.”