I don’t usually stop for dramatic moments in grocery stores. Most days, I’m too tired to think about anything except what’s on sale and whether I can stretch my budget enough to last the week. Being a single mom to a seven-year-old with asthma means I live somewhere between exhaustion and worry, trying to make every decision count.
Last month was especially hard. My car broke down, my savings disappeared, and the new medication my daughter Mia needed came with a “partially covered” label that felt like a punch. That night, I had exactly $18.47 to buy a week’s worth of food. My list was short and painfully practical: flour, milk, potatoes, yogurt, tea, bread. No extras.
I was comparing flour brands when I heard a sudden gasp behind me, followed by the unmistakable sound of someone hitting the floor.
I turned and saw an elderly woman near the fruit section, her skirt caught under her shoe, apples rolling across the aisle. She didn’t seem seriously injured, but she was shaken and embarrassed. People walked around her, pretending not to notice. One shopper even stepped over an apple without slowing down. The whole moment felt strangely cold.
I dropped my basket and hurried over.
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