Raised standards

The “Store Closing – Everything Must Go” signs are still taped to the glass doors behind you. Your manager’s words keep repeating in your head: they’re shutting down for good and today was your last shift. No severance, no warning, just a final paycheck that won’t last the month.

You step out onto the sidewalk, the afternoon sun feeling too bright, and lean against the rough brick wall. Tears start before you can stop them. All you can think about is Rob. Sweet, hardworking Rob who already picks up extra shifts whenever he can. How are you supposed to tell him you lost the only steady income the two of you had?

You are still wiping your cheeks when a rough voice interrupts. A homeless man stands a few feet away, hand half-outstretched. “Spare any change?”

Something inside you, frayed and exhausted, snaps. “Can’t you see this is not a good time?” you say, sharper than you have ever spoken to anyone.

The man’s expression hardens. He looks you up and down with sudden contempt. “Figures. Just another money-hungry gold-digger whore.” He spits the words like a curse, then turns and shuffles away.

A strange cold shiver runs down your spine. You tell yourself it is only the wind. Somewhere deep inside, something has already begun to change.