My name is Margaret, but most people call me Maggie. Recently, I went to the supermarket to buy a bun. I live alone now since my family abandoned me, and moments like these bring me a little joy.

As I reached the checkout counter, I suddenly realized, with horror, that I had lost the two dollars I needed to buy the bun. Desperately, I began searching for coins in my purse, hoping to find enough to cover the cost. The cashier, seeing my struggle, said harshly, “Hurry up, old lady. If you can’t afford it, you shouldn’t be here wasting our time.”

As I stood there, a kind stranger approached me. He had witnessed the whole scene and offered to pay for my bun. “Please, let me help you,” he said, handing me the bun with a warm smile. I accepted with gratitude, feeling a small sense of justice that the rude cashier received a taste of her own medicine.

“Thank you so much,” I said, my voice trembling with relief. “You have no idea how much this means to me.” “It’s no problem at all,” he replied. “I’m John, by the way.” “I’m Margaret, but you can call me Maggie,” I responded, still overwhelmed by his kindness. John seemed genuinely concerned about me.

He started asking about my situation, wanting to know more about the woman he had just helped. “Do you live nearby?” he asked, his voice gentle. “Yes, I do,” I replied. “I live alone now since my family… well, they abandoned me.” “I’m so sorry to hear that,” John said, his face showing sincere sympathy. “What did you do before you retired?”

“I was a chemistry teacher,” I revealed. John’s eyes lit up with interest. “You were a chemistry teacher? That’s incredible! My daughters are studying to become doctors, and they’re struggling with their chemistry classes. Would you be interested in tutoring them?” I was taken aback by his offer. It had been years since I last taught, and I had almost forgotten the passion I once had for education.