The evening began like any other. The lights in the store were cold, the floor was shiny, and the air smelled of dust and cheap detergent.

Chapter One

The evening began like any other. The lights in the store were cold, the floor was shiny, and the air smelled of dust and cheap detergent. There was the steady beeping of the scanner and the soft murmurs of people hurrying home.

I stood at the cash register, counting the minutes until closing. My head was spinning with bills that wouldn't come due. The mortgage I took out two years ago was demanding its dues. The interest rates were increasing, and the bank didn't care if you were tired or if you had any hope left.

Then I saw her.

A girl, weak and pale, as if the light passed through her without stopping. Her hair was pulled back clumsily, her clothes hung as if on a hanger. She was not one of those children who laugh and run between the stalls. She walked cautiously, with eyes that looked at everything and no one.

She stopped in front of the candy. She reached out, picked up a package, looked around. She wasn't clever. She wasn't impudent. She was desperate.

I saw her stuff the package into her pocket. I saw her swallow as if something were stuck in her throat. I saw her walk toward the exit with that exaggerated, unnatural gait of someone pretending to be invisible.

I came out from behind the cash register.

I didn't raise my voice. I didn't call security. I just caught up with her at the door and said quietly:

– Wait.

She turned as if struck. Her eyes widened, her face grew even paler, and her lips trembled.

“No… please…” she whispered before I could even say anything.

He took out the package and held it out with both hands, as if he were holding something dangerous. Then he started crying. Not the kind of childish crying that passes quickly. But a crying that comes from a place where he has no strength.

“These are my mother’s favorites,” she said, her words coming out in jumbled fragments. “She’s dying. I just wanted to give her something sweet before she passed away.”

Something heavy rose in my chest. I wanted to say that there were rules. That stealing was stealing. That I had problems too.

But instead I heard my own voice:

– How much do they cost?

She looked at me incomprehensibly, as if she expected me to take out handcuffs. I went back to the register, paid for the candy, and put it in a bag.

Then I reached into my pocket, took out the money I had set aside for the loan payment, and handed it over. Two hundred leva. It was as if my hand belonged to someone else.

– Take it. For medicine, for food… for whatever you need. Just… don't steal anymore.

She didn't dare take them right away. Her fingers touched the bills as if they were hot.

“I… will return them,” he whispered. “I swear.”

“Give them back to your mother,” I replied. “She needs them now.”

Just then, behind me, I heard a sharp tug on a chair and heavy footsteps.

Kalin.

My manager was one of those people who didn't enter the room, but stormed in. Always with the rules in his mouth and suspicion in his eyes. He looked at the girl, the bag, the money in her hand, and his face twisted.

“What are you doing?” he hissed. “Giving out money? Opening a charity shop?”

I tried to speak calmly.

– Kalin, she's a child. She stole candy. I paid for it. I gave her my own money.

– Yours? – he laughed, but his laughter was like a crack. – You are the face of the store. You are an example. If everyone starts paying for thieves, they will take out half the goods tomorrow!

The girl winced as if the words had hit her. She had already apologized with her whole body, and it still wasn't enough.

“Kalin, let her go,” I said. “It won’t happen again.”

He came closer to me, so close that I could feel his breath, laced with coffee and anger.