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I’m 28 (F), seven months pregnant, and on my own. When I told the father about the baby, he disappeared that same night, said he “wasn’t ready.” Since then, it’s just been me, the baby I call Bean, and my old Corolla that rattles all the time. I work part-time at a pharmacy, and the money disappears before I can even blink — rent, gas, utilities, check-ups. That Tuesday, I was at the grocery store when I heard raised voices at the checkout. At the register stood an elderly man, maybe around seventy, his shirt faded, one shoe worn through. In his basket: bread, milk, eggs, soup… and one bag of dog food. In his arms, he held a tiny terrier close. The cashier kept scanning and rescanning the old man’s items UNTIL the total came to $15.50. He began taking items out one by one and putting them aside. The line groaned. “ARE WE GOING TO STAND HERE ALL DAY?” someone shouted. “HURRY IT UP ALREADY!” another snapped. A security guard came over, arms crossed: “NO DOGS ALLOWED! EITHER THE BAG OR THE DOG GOES!” The old man clutched his puppy tighter. His voice cracked: “She’s all I have left. Please… JUST LEAVE THE DOG FOOD.” My heart clenched. Without thinking, I stepped forward. “I’ll pay for everything!” I told the cashier. He turned back, eyes wet: “Miss… I can’t…” “Yes, you can,” I said. And I handed him the bag with food for both him and his pup. The next morning, I was woken up by a SOUND ON THE PORCH. I thought it was the neighbor’s cat. I OPENED THE DOOR.⬇️
