The tag was still attached. The listing described it as new with tags and priced it at $85. Beneath the listing was the word SOLD.
I took screenshots of each item and its price. Then I went downstairs.
Nick was on the sofa watching a football preview. I stood in front of the television and showed him my phone.
“Your sister is selling my clothes.”
He glanced at the screen, then back at the television. “Maybe some of them didn’t fit her.”
“They were bought to fit me.”
“Why are you getting so worked up?”
I thought of the man I had married four years earlier, the one who used to warm up my car on freezing mornings before my shifts and bring dinner to the hospital when I could not take a proper break. I wanted him to look at the listings and understand what he had done without me having to explain it all over again.
