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They Called the Quiet Lunch Aide a Thief at the Tray Line — Then the Milk Tally Showed Her Own Initials

"You stole that money," Branda said loud enough for thirty students to hear, both palms already flat against Delia's chest.

Delia Merrick is fifty-two, first Friday of the state meal-count audit window, and the only thing standing between her and an empty apartment is the one cafeteria job that still gets her out of bed. Twenty-two dollars is all that is missing — and the substitute kitchen manager has decided the quiet widow at the serving window is going to wear it.

Delia's hand was in her apron pocket before she even hit the milk crates.

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