I was working the afternoon shift at the grocery store when I noticed an older man. He seemed to be in his early 70s, wearing a brown coat slightly too large for him.
I had worked at this job long enough to recognize the pocket bulge.
My hand went still around the box.
The man also smelled faintly of cold air, the kind that clings after a long walk.
I walked over slowly. When he saw me coming, he went completely still.
“Ma’am,” he said before I could speak, “I’ve never done anything like this before. My pension ran out four days ago. I have nothing left until next week. I’m so sorry.”
