“Protecting the bottom line,” he said with a laugh.

I didn’t laugh.

“That woman was my mother,” I told him.

His face dropped. I told him there was no job for him — but the shelter down the street was hiring.

That night, I called Mom. She already knew. Mothers always do.

Today, she runs our outreach team — handing out muffins and hope again, this time with her name on the door. Because kindness may be punished… but it never stays down.

Karma remembers. And so do I.