The cashier picked up the rice, scanned it, and the screen beeped.
“Three dollars and forty cents,” she said sharply. “You’re short.”
The girl’s face drained of color.
She stared at the screen, then at her money, then back at the rice—as if the numbers might rearrange themselves if she looked hard enough.
“I… I only have this,” she whispered. “My little brother hasn’t eaten today.”
That was when the laughter started.
Not everyone laughed. But enough did.
A woman with a full cart rolled her eyes. A teenage boy smirked and nudged his friend.
Someone near the back chuckled, “This isn’t a charity.”
The shopkeeper—standing near the cigarettes—shook his head.
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