“My name is Walter,” he said softly. “I’ve never done anything like this in my 72 years. I’m… I’m ashamed. And grateful. And sorry.”
“You have nothing to be sorry for, Walter.”
I had $200 left until payday. The groceries came to $103.
I was not entirely sure how I would manage rent, but I was certain I had done the right thing.
“I’ve never done anything like this in my 72 years.”
Walter asked me where I lived, and I told him without thinking much about it, because he was a sweet old man who had just cried over a chocolate bar, and I wasn’t thinking about anything except getting home.
