I paused near the entrance, brushing a loose curl behind my ear. That’s when I noticed Rick, the store manager, standing by the registers. I offered a tired half-smile and stepped toward him.
He looked up, his face brightening as though I were the first good thing he’d seen all day.
“She’s doing a lot better, Ariel,” he said. “She still talks about how gentle you were with her after surgery. She thinks you’ve got magic hands.”
My voice came out raspier than I expected.
“She just liked the pudding I brought her,” I said with a laugh.
“How are the girls?”
“Still fighting over whose turn it is to feed the cat. Celia’s got a science project on fungi growing somewhere in her closet, and Ara’s upset her team didn’t make the finals. So… we’re hanging in there.”
He smiled and gave me a playful salute before returning to his work. I pushed my cart down the first aisle and finally allowed myself a breath.
“So… we’re hanging in there.”
And in the express checkout lane ahead of me stood an older man.
He was small, slightly hunched, wearing a faded jacket that had seen far better decades. His hands trembled as he placed a loaf of bread, a jar of peanut butter, and a small carton of milk on the belt—items so simple and essential they almost hurt to look at.
Someone’s toddler screamed in the cereal aisle.
These were the groceries of someone who counted every cent.
Then came the beep.
Declined.
The man swallowed and slid the card again, quiet desperation tightening his features.
Declined.
Again, the red message blinked at all of us: Declined.
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