He tried to block them out, focusing on the cashier’s kind but regretful expression. Yet the stares felt like daggers, each one piercing deeper into his already fragile resolve. His vision blurred as his breathing quickened, his thoughts spiraling.
“They think I’m a failure. They see it. They know I can’t even buy formula for my kid. They’re laughing at me. They hate me for wasting their time,” he thought. The toddler’s cries grew louder, the teenage boys chuckled again, and the older man shifted his stance, letting out a sharp, impatient huff.