Jimmy loved Lupe. This truth lived in his tired heart, a small, stubborn flame. Jimmy was forty-one. His heart was sick, a weak flutter in his thin chest. Life in Sheffield, Alabama, had worn him down. He looked old, skinny, often dirty from odd jobs that vanished like smoke. The damp air off the Tennessee River seeped into his bones. But Lupe? Lupe was his sunshine.

Lupe was forty. Life hadn’t been easy, but beauty clung to her like mist on the cotton fields. She had kind eyes that crinkled at the corners. She lived down the dusty road from Jimmy. She smiled for him. She brought him thin soup sometimes. She listened to his quiet, breathless words. Jimmy believed she loved him too. He needed to believe it. It was his only comfort.

But Lupe’s heart had another master. His name was Nick. Nick was fifty-one, lived large in Huntsville, and wore a wedding ring he never mentioned. He was rich. Rich meant warm houses, full plates, no gnawing fear. Nick visited Lupe when the mood struck him. He brought shiny things and crisp dollar bills. Lupe needed those dollars. Need was a heavy chain, stronger than love, stronger than shame.

Jimmy knew about Nick. The knowledge was a dull stone in his chest, heavier than his sickness. He saw the shadow in Lupe’s eyes after Nick’s big car rumbled away. He saw the way she smoothed her dress, pretending. "He’s just a friend, Jimmy," she’d whisper, touching his rough hand. "You’re my true heart." Jimmy swallowed the lie like bitter medicine. He had nothing else to swallow.

Winter came sharp to Alabama. Jimmy’s breath became a thin, painful whistle. The doctor, a tired man, sighed. "Medicine," he said. "Good medicine. Expensive." He looked at Jimmy’s worn clothes and empty pockets. He didn’t say more. Hope, already thin in Jimmy, began to fade like the winter light.

Lupe watched Jimmy fade. Fear tightened her throat. One grey afternoon, she vanished. She returned, pale but determined. She pressed a small bottle of amber medicine and a few folded bills into Jimmy’s cold hand. "Get strong, Jimmy," she murmured, her voice thick.

"Lupe... how?" Jimmy rasped, staring at the costly bottle.
"Don’t you worry," she said, looking away quickly. Jimmy’s sick heart clenched. "Nick". The medicine tasted sour, but he drank it. For her.

Days later, Nick’s car roared up. Anger darkened his face. "Where is it, Lupe?" he demanded, filling her small porch. "The locket? The gold one with the pearl?"
Lupe shrunk back. "I... needed money, Nick. For... something important."
"For that wreck Jimmy?" Nick’s lip curled. "You sold my gift for him?" He grabbed her wrist. "You forget your place, Lupe. You belong where I put you. Your charity case won’t see spring." He tossed crumpled bills on her table. "Get it back. Pawnshop on Elm. Don’t cross me." He left dust swirling.

Lupe cried. Not for Nick, not for his anger. She cried for the locket –her deceased mother's gold locket with a pearl, a gift from Nick – to buy Jimmy the medicine. 

She used Nick’s money, not for the locket, but for more medicine and warm broth for Jimmy. He seemed to breathe easier. He smiled at her. "You saved me, Lupe."
She forced a smile. "Rest, Jimmy."

But Jimmy’s tired heart had finished its work. One cold morning, he simply didn’t wake. His thin hand clutched a grimy tobacco tin. Inside, Lupe found a small roll of dollar bills, saved penny by painful penny, and a scrap of paper: "For Lupe. For something pretty. For freedom. Thank you for the light. - Jimmy."

Lupe’s tears fell then, hot and true. The man with nothing had given her his everything. She used Jimmy’s money to lay him gentle in the red Alabama clay.

A week passed. A small box arrived. Inside, gleaming coldly, lay her mama’s gold locket and pearl. A typed note fluttered out: "Got it back. Wear it. Remember who owns you. - Nick."

Lupe held the cold gold. She looked at Jimmy’s empty chair. She had sold her past for a few more days of his fading present. He had given his fragile future for a dream of her freedom. And Nick? He bought back a trinket, thinking it bought what money can never hold – a heart. Lupe closed the locket. It felt heavy as sin. The rich man gave her the cheapest thing he had. The poor man gave her all his riches. Such is the strange price of love and need in Sheffield, Alabama.