While waiting in line to the store for a self-checkout terminal, a man casually settled

up beside me and asked if I had mine lending him a few dollars.

He was short on cash.

My glance at his hand basket, so that he only had a few items, it was for a water bottle

packed up to another loaf of bread, and I went ahead and offered to just pay for his groceries.

Everything as how the cost wouldn't be more than ten or fifteen dollars.

I hadn't put much in my cart, so our combined totals wouldn't even break the bank.

So I mean, he looked at me as if I'd offered him my kidney or something, right?

His eyes watered up as lips quivering.

Before he could say anything, I told him that it'd be all right, you know, I wouldn't

mind at all.

I let my cart over so that he could deposit his items.

He'd be a heartful smile, he nodded his head, added his item to the cart.

The line cleared, I paid for what we'd gathered, gave him his items, as gratefully as he could,

he thanked me, shook my hand, with parted ways.

I went home with that little warm feeling in my chest that arises after you've done

a nice thing for someone, and I hoped that he'd pass on the gesture to someone else.

No.

He did, but, um, not the way I expected.

The following day I went back to the same store to grab a drink and a snack about the same

time that I'd gone yesterday.

It mildly surprising, the same man was also there.

...