Rain poured down in sheets as Emma trudged toward the grocery store, her soaked sweater clinging to her skin. Every step splashed through puddles, every raindrop echoing her exhaustion. At 23, she had lost everything—her parents, her sense of direction, and almost her hope. With just $50 left in her wallet, she whispered her mother’s old words: “Tough times don’t last, but tough people do.”
Inside the store, under harsh fluorescent lights, Emma counted every penny in her head. Bread, eggs, soup—just enough to get by. She picked up a can of tomato soup, her mom’s favorite, and smiled sadly at the memory of family dinners that would never return.
Then she noticed him. A man at the next checkout lane, shoulders slumped, fumbling with a handful of coins. “I’m sorry,” he murmured to the cashier. “I think I’m short. I haven’t eaten in two days. Can I just take the bread?”
The young cashier looked helpless. Emma didn’t hesitate. “I’ll cover it,” she said softly, stepping forward.
The man turned, startled. “You don’t have to,” he whispered, voice trembling.
“I know what it’s like to feel invisible,” she said gently. “Please. Let me help.”
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