“Declined.” Twice.
When I reached the register, I tried to smile at the young cashier. I placed my items on the belt and slid my card through the reader.
Beep. Declined.
Maybe the pension deposit hadn’t cleared yet, I thought. Maybe I’d miscalculated after paying the electric bill last week.
Beep. Declined again.
Behind me, frustration curdled into cruelty.
“What is this, a charity line?”
“Maybe if you spent less time having kids you can’t afford…”— Strangers in line
Lily started to fuss in her carrier. I bounced her gently, whispering with a calm I didn’t feel.
“Shh, it’s okay, baby. We’ll figure it out. Grandma will figure it out.”— Margaret
I dug through my purse and counted what I had: eight dollars.
“Could you just ring up the baby food?”— Margaret to the cashier
