Keisha approached slowly, hugging her brother tighter. “Sir”, he said, his voice barely a whisper, “my little brother is crying. We don’t have milk. Could you give me a box please? I’ll pay you when I’m older”.

The store was silent. The cashier stared at her. Even the man next to him stopped counting the change.

Richard turned around, his expression indecipherable. Years of running a business had hardened him. He was used to people lying to gain compassion. “Girl”, he said coldly, “you shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep”.

Keisha opened her eyes wide, but didn’t back down. “I’m serious”, he said quietly. “I will pay you. I promise”.

For a moment, Richard hesitated. Something in his trembling voice reminded him of his own daughter, whom he barely saw anymore. With a sigh, he reached into his wallet, took out a few dollars, and bought the milk.

But instead of giving it to him, he threw it at the counter. “Take it”, he murmured. “But don’t beg again”.