The Day a Little Boy Taught Everyone in the Store a Lesson in Courage
The grocery store I worked at wasn’t anything special—just a cozy little spot tucked between a laundromat and a bakery. One of those places where people knew your name. Where sweet old ladies brought you cookies in December. Where Mr. Simmons stacked his groceries like a game of Tetris every week.
It was an ordinary day.
I was ringing up regulars, smiling through small talk, watching the clock like always. The scent of fresh bread drifted in from the bakery next door, mixing with the ever-present smell of bleach on clean tile.
And then the doors flew open.
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