Without thinking, I stepped forward. “Wait,” I blurted, my voice louder than intended. Both the man and the cashier turned toward me. I held out the twenty-dollar bill I had been clutching like my life depended on it. “Here. Cover it with this.”

The old man’s eyes widened. “No, no, I can’t—”

“Please,” I said, cutting him off. My throat was tight, and I could feel my baby kick inside me, almost as if reminding me what compassion meant. “Take it. Get your food. And keep the change.”

The cashier looked relieved to finally resolve the situation. She punched in the bills quickly, bagged the items, and pushed them across the counter. The old man’s hands shook as he picked them up. He turned to me slowly, his eyes shining with tears he didn’t seem to know how to hide.