I sighed. It had been one of those evenings — the kind that creeps in heavy and slow, leaving you drained and anxious all at once. My back ached from carrying more than my fair share, and my brain buzzed with caffeine and worry. If life were different, I’d have let Owen run wild through the candy aisle and pick whatever he wanted. But reality was harsh: 48 more exhausting hours until my paycheck landed, and my poor debit card had already given dramatic sighs at the gas pump earlier.

I gave him my firmest not today look. He giggled and dropped his hand.“Next time, I promise,” I said — though I wasn’t sure whether I was reassuring him or myself.In front of us stood an elderly woman who looked to be in her late 70s. Her hair was pinned back in a soft bun, wisps of silver curling gently by her ears. She wore a pale green cardigan that looked lovingly worn, the elbows stretched from years of use.