That freezing Tuesday morning, Lily woke with a fever, her body weak and her green eyes barely open.
“Daddy,” she whispered, “I can’t breathe very well.”
Robert’s heart broke. His last twenty dollars were gone, the pharmacy required cash, and he had no hospital insurance.
He called his boss for an advance. “Company policy doesn’t allow it,” came the reply.
Kneeling beside her, he watched her lips turn slightly blue, her small hands trembling. Without medicine, she might not survive the night.
That evening, after restless sleep, Robert made the hardest choice of his life. He zipped up his worn jacket, kissed her forehead, and stepped out into the biting cold.
The pharmacy on Elm Street was full of customers. Fear overwhelmed him — not because of the cold, but because of his daughter’s suffering.
He had never stolen before. But seeing her blue-tinged lips, he could not hold back. He lowered his cap and stepped inside under the unforgiving fluorescent lights.
