My name is Margaret, but most people call me Maggie.
Not long ago, something unexpected happened during a simple trip to the supermarket—a moment that shifted the course of my life. I had gone in to buy a single bun. Living alone after being abandoned by my family, small comforts like that bun meant more than most people would understand. At the checkout, I suddenly realized I had misplaced the two dollars I needed. Flustered, I began digging through my purse, hoping coins would appear. The cashier’s voice snapped through the air,
sharp and impatient. “Hurry up, old lady. If you can’t pay, don’t waste our time.” Her words pierced me. I felt eyes on me, my cheeks flushed with shame. I was just about to walk away when fate intervened. In her rush to move on, the cashier knocked over a stack of canned goods. They toppled loudly onto the floor, and as she bent down to pick them up, she slipped and fell, causing a commotion. Customers rushed to help her while I quietly stepped aside,
