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“Good on you,” I said.
He shrugged.
“Just tired of watching people pretend struggle only exists for other people.”
I left the store a few minutes later.
Cold air hit my face as I stepped outside, but it didn’t feel as sharp as it did when I went in.
What stayed with me wasn’t the argument.
Wasn’t the judgment.
Wasn’t even the silence afterward.
It was the moment the room split in two.
Between people who looked away…
and people who didn’t.
And I realized something I probably should have known a long time ago.
Most kindness doesn’t come from comfort.
It comes from people who remember what it feels like not to have any.