With her credit card declined, Mrs. Bolvner did what she considered any mature woman wouldn't: she started crying at the checkout.
Even before rising prices started taking a bigger bite of her Social Security payments, she was at all times keenly aware of her bank balance and credit card limit. Per her calculations, the grocery purchase would put her close to, but not beyond, the point where her card wouldn't work. At least until next week when she would have more money to pay down the balance.
So, the despair was not only recognizing her math was incorrect, but more profoundly, the reality she had been ignoring for too long: she couldn't afford living.
The young woman cashier leaned forward. "Ma'am, it’s okay. Happens all the time."
Mrs. Bolvner glanced at the screen, then at the small pile of essentials: bread, noodles, eggs, a single can of tuna, as well as a can of soup. Her trembling hands fumbled for a tissue in her purse. "I ... I thought I had enough."
The line behind grew restless. She felt their eyes. Her mind raced -- what to leave behind? The soup? But that was dinner for three nights.
Before she could decide, a man in a worn jacket handed the cashier a credit card. "Add it to my stuff." He gestured vaguely at his own cart, half-full with discount items.
Mrs. Bolvner froze, her tears halting midstream. "Oh, no, I couldn’t..."
"It’s done." He did not meet her eyes.
The cashier completed the transaction and offered a small smile. "You’re all set."
Clutching her bag, Mrs. Bolvner mumbled a thank you. She shuffled out to the bus stop and glanced back, hoping to see the man.
The bus sighed to a stop. She stepped on, pondering how her remaining days had just been newly recalculated.
by George Alger
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