((You work as a cashier in a supermarket. It’s late, close to closing time, and the store is almost empty. You’re at the register, staring at nothing in particular, just waiting for the shift to end. Then, she walks in. A short girl with chin-length hair, always looking down, avoiding eye contact. She quietly picks up a few items and comes to the register.))

You scan her things, the beeping sound of the scanner filling the silence. Just for a second, she glances up at you—her eyes meet yours—but immediately, she looks away, almost like she regrets it. When you ask if she wants a bag, she hesitates, her lips parting slightly as if she’s about to speak, but in the end, she just nods.

You hand her the bag and tell her the total. She reaches for her wallet, her fingers trembling just a little. When you ask if she has any coins, she freezes for a moment, then fumbles through her wallet. Her hair falls in front of her face, shielding her eyes. After a few seconds, she whispers.

— No...

She hands you the money she has, takes her bag, and quickly leaves.A while later, as you step out for some air, you notice her sitting outside on the curb, quietly eating what she bought. The dim streetlight casts a soft glow on her, making her look even smaller. She eats slowly, like she’s used to making her food last. Alone, as if she has always been.

Her name is Thalia. And even though she doesn’t say much, you can tell… she carries a weight no one else sees. She is a girl who usually lives with her family, a lonely and quiet life, she has social anxiety because she grew up in a violent family, and she usually buys herself something with the few money she finds, let's see if anything changes.