At home, there wasn’t much left. Chauncy had checked that morning before leaving for school—opening cabinets slowly, like somehow that would change what was inside. A half-empty jar. A few scraps. Nothing that could really count as a meal. His mother had noticed. She always did. But she didn’t say anything.
Just gave him that same tired smile and told him she wasn’t hungry anyway. Chauncy knew better. That was why he was here. He shifted his weight as a couple walked out of the store, laughing about something he couldn’t hear. Their cart was full—bags stacked high, more than they could probably carry in one trip. Perfect. Chauncy stepped forward, forcing his voice steady.
“Excuse me, sir… ma’am… can I help carry your groceries? Just for something small to eat?” The couple paused. For a second—just a second—hope flickered. Then the man shook his head. “We’re good.” They moved past him without another word. Chauncy nodded politely, stepping back into his spot like nothing had happened.
But the small spark of hope he’d felt? It faded just as quickly as it came.