The week had been difficult. My car was hardly running, I had a mountain of bills, and I wasn’t making enough money.

While waiting in line, I mentally estimated what I would need to replace.

I was short, and I felt sick to my stomach as the amount appeared.

With a sigh, I began to set away necessities like milk, diapers, and even my child’s cereal. At that moment, the cheerfully smiling cashier reached into her pocket and discreetly gave me some money.

“You’re fine,” she muttered. “I’ve been there.”

Startled, I blinked at her. “Thank you,” I said. I am at a loss for words.

Still in shock, I accepted the courtesy, completed the checkout process, and proceeded to my car after she simply nodded as if it were nothing.

My heart began to race. I quickly turned to face the cashier—

However, she had already left.

My throat was scratched by panic. I circled around, looking around the parking lot. I had handed my son a granola bar from one of the bags, and he was already happily obliviously buckled up in his car seat, chewing on it. But me? I had the impression that I was perilously close to something.