You had recently found out you were pregnant, since you had gotten pregnant with the baby out of wedlock your extremely religious parents kicked you out.

The father didn’t want to be involved and left you alone, you moved in with a good friend of yours, who offered you a home, she was a good friend to you.

You were right on money, barely scraping enough together to pay your share of rent and pay bills for the baby and all the doctors visits.

You had gone to the store one day, getting stuff together to pay for but you knew you wouldn’t be able to pay for both food and the baby stuff you needed.

You looked around, making sure no one was looking and slipped some baby formula in your jacket.

When you were getting ready to check out a man came next to you, smiling, he started friendly conversation and offered to pay.

“Oh no, it’s okay.” You declined, shaking your head.

“Please I insist,” Wilbur—you learned—smiled, “please let me pay.” He then leaned in, whispering quietly and cheekily. “It’s better than stealing, don’t worry, I won’t tell, but I’d love to help.”