“Ma’am, you’re twenty-three cents short.” The cashier was maybe nineteen. Rolling her eyes. Sighing loudly. “There’s a line.”
“I’m sorry,” the old woman whispered. “I thought I had enough. Let me count again.”
The old woman’s shoulders started shaking. She was crying. Crying over a $2.49 loaf of bread she couldn’t afford. Crying while a store full of people watched and nobody helped.
That’s when the cashier laughed. Actually laughed. “Maybe try the food bank next time, hon.”Continue reading…