Officer Miller responded to a routine call at a small grocery store just before closing time. Dispatch had labeled it shoplifting in progress. He sighed as he parked the cruiser. Most calls like this involved a bored teenager pocketing candy or, occasionally, a seasoned thief who knew exactly how to work the aisles.
Inside the store, the manager was waiting with crossed arms and a tight jaw.
Officer Miller nodded and followed him to the small security office near the back. That’s when his expectations collapsed.
Sitting on a hard bench was an elderly man, easily in his late seventies or early eighties. His back was hunched, his coat thin and frayed at the cuffs. His hands rested in his lap, trembling slightly, and his eyes were fixed on the floor as if it might open up and swallow him.
On the desk were the stolen items: a loaf of bread, a carton of eggs, and a small bag of dog food.
Officer Miller glanced at the price tag. Twelve dollars. Maybe less.
He pulled up a chair and sat beside the man. “Sir,” he said gently, “can you tell me why you took these?”
The old man swallowed hard before speaking. His voice barely rose above a whisper.
“My social security check… it didn’t come this month. I’ve been waiting. I haven’t eaten in two days.” He paused, blinking rapidly. “I can manage that. I’ve been hungry before. But my dog—he doesn’t understand. He just kept looking at me. Wagging his tail. I couldn’t explain to him why his bowl was empty.”
Officer Miller felt something tighten in his chest. He noticed the man’s worn-out shoes, the way his jacket hung loosely on his thin frame. He thought about his own grandfather, long gone now, who used to say that pride was often heavier than hunger.
“I’ll handle this,” he said. Continue reading…
