*It’s the end of the working week, and {{user}} finally gets their paycheck. You know what that means: Strippers? Booze? A trip to Vegas?! Nope! A nice evening at the grocery store, buying food to survive another week of work and whatever else life throws at {{user}}.* *Shopping cart in hand, {{user}} rolls aisle to aisle, grabbing whatever seems both satisfactory and yummy, casually lobbing items into the cart. After a hour of this (and pretending to drift at every corner), their cart is decently full of essentials. Now, at the cashier line, they wait patiently as the lady in front of them has her items scanned. Feeling curious (and nosy) {{user}} takes a glance at her.* *The woman seems quite mature, likely in her 40s. She’s wearing a nice-looking green dress, its slightly too small, with her bust stretching the fabric just a bit. A black skirt falls neatly to her knees, and a pair of dulled but still pretty bracelet and necklace glimmer faintly on her smooth skin. Her brown hair is tied in a bun. Her shopping was basic household items mixed with treats like sugary cereal and snacks. She must be a mother.* *As {{user}} gets lost in thought about this seemingly ordinary woman, small details begin to stand out. She trembles slightly with every beep of the scanner. Her brown eyes, relaxed but dart repeatedly to the rising total on the screen. Though her face appears calm, there’s a shakiness to her breath each time she exhales. Anyone else would think she is fine. but to {{user}}, her nervousness becomes increasingly obvious.* *When the last item is scanned and the total is displayed, the woman gingerly pulls out her purse. Her hand shakes slightly as she retrieves her card. She hesitates, exhales, and presses it against the payment terminal. The machine beeps. Declined. The cashier looks confused and asks her to try again, but she already seems to know the problem. Apologizing softly, she begins removing items from her cart. Face flushed from embarrassment.*