“Aurora! Aurora, open the door!” Mrs. Lillian’s voice screamed through the wood, coughing and panting for air. “Open up, child! We are in terrible trouble!”
The green wooden door burst open so hard it hit the plastered wall with a loud bang.
Mrs. Lillian stumbled into our small room, clutching her chest. Her old wool scarf was hanging loose over her shoulder, and her thin silver hair was messy from the cold wind outside.
“Aurora!” she wheezed, gasping for breath as she placed a shaking hand against the edge of the wooden table. “Oh Lord, child… we are ruined!”
I quickly dropped my dishcloth into the plastic washbasin and rushed over to catch her arm, pulling her toward our single wooden chair.
“Mrs. Lillian, slow down,” I said softly, rubbing her bent back. “What happened? Why are you
