“I’m so sorry,” she kept saying, wiping her face with the sleeve of her jacket. “I’ll come back tomorrow. I’ll figure something out.”
Tomorrow. The word didn’t sit right.
Infections don’t wait. Fevers don’t pause for financial stability. And children don’t understand why relief has to be delayed because of a declined card. I looked around the store. Empty. Just the low hum of the lights and the quiet sound of her trying not to cry too loudly.
Then I made a decision.
“Hey,” I said gently.
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