Not long ago, I went to the supermarket to buy a simple bun. My name is Margaret, but most people call me Maggie. Since my family abandoned me, small outings like this have become precious moments of joy and normalcy in my quiet life.
At the checkout counter, I realized with panic that I was two dollars short. I frantically searched my purse for coins, hoping to cover the cost. The cashier, clearly annoyed, snapped at me, “Hurry up, old lady. If you can’t afford it, don’t waste our time.” Her harsh words stung deeply, and I felt the eyes of other customers on me, my cheeks burning with embarrassment.
