The six-pack was only $6.99, a small indulgence he hadn’t allowed himself in months. His hand hovered over the pack. It felt irresponsible, but the thought of sitting down with a cold beer after everything he’d been through was too tempting.
He grabbed it, shoving it into the basket and telling himself it wasn’t a big deal. Jacob’s nerves began to fray as he approached the checkout counter. He placed the items on the conveyor belt carefully: formula, diapers, wipes, and the beer. The young cashier, a woman in her early twenties with a warm but tired smile, greeted him politely.