“No—please don’t,” Chauncy said, his voice cracking. “I didn’t take anything. You can check, you can ask—there were people outside—” But the manager was already dialing. “I’ve got a kid here with unpaid items,” he said, turning slightly away. “Yeah—looks like shoplifting.”
The word hit like a punch. Shoplifting. People were definitely watching now. Not pretending anymore. Chauncy’s chest tightened. “If you call them… I—my mom’s at home,” he said, the words tumbling out. “She’s sick, I need to get back, I wasn’t trying to—please—” His hands started shaking.
His knees felt weak. Everything was slipping. “Or,” a voice cut in, calm and steady, “we could just check the cameras first.” Both of them turned. A man stood a few feet away.
Casual. Unbothered. Like he’d been watching the whole time.