When everything cleared, the cashier walked me home himself, keeping a respectful distance but making sure I felt safe. On the way, he apologized for startling me and for the confusion earlier. I thanked him—really thanked him—because his instinct to look out for a stranger had likely kept me from a far worse night. As I unlocked my door, he said softly, “Most people don’t see what happens behind counters. But we try our best to keep everyone safe.” Long after he left, that stayed with me. Sometimes the quietest heroes are the ones working night shifts, noticing the little things, and stepping in before danger ever takes shape.
