I parked farther away.
I walked in with my shoulders squared.
The shelf was still there.
But now there were people around it.
Not shopping.
Watching.
A woman in a puffy jacket held her phone up, live-streaming.
Her voice was loud, performative. “See? This is what I’m talking about. They put this out and people just TAKE. No shame.”
A young mom stood near the table, baby carrier on her chest, eyes darting like a trapped animal.
Her hand hovered over a pack of diapers like she was reaching toward a hot stove.
The live-stream woman swung her phone toward the mom. “Go ahead,” she said with a fake smile. “Tell everyone why you deserve free stuff.”
The mom’s face crumpled.
I felt my blood go cold.
I stepped forward.
“Turn that off,” I said.
The live-stream woman spun toward me, eyes widening as she recognized me.
“Oh my God,” she squealed. “It’s YOU. Guys, it’s him.”
People’s heads snapped up like prairie dogs.
Phones lifted.
I could almost hear the algorithm purring.
I wanted to disappear.
I didn’t.
I looked at the woman and said, calm as I could, “Put your phone down.”
She laughed. “Why? Freedom of speech, right?”
“I’m not here to debate,” I said. “I’m here to shop. And that mother is here to feed her kid. You’re turning her into content.”
The woman’s smile thinned. “You started this,” she said. “You started the shelf. Now you don’t like people watching it?”
“I didn’t start anything,” I said. “People started it because they felt helpless. You’re making them feel hunted.”
The mom’s eyes were wet, but she didn’t move.
Her baby made a small noise, a hiccup or a whimper.
That sound did something to the room.
Because babies don’t care about pride.
They don’t care about politics.
They don’t care about who “deserves” what.
They care about one thing.
Eating.
The live-stream woman sneered. “If she can’t afford diapers—”
I cut her off, voice like a blade. “Don’t.”
A man behind me muttered, “Here we go.”
Someone else said, “He’s right.”
Someone else laughed.
The room split into sides in ten seconds flat, like that’s what we’re best at now.
The live-stream woman lifted her phone higher. “Go ahead,” she taunted. “Say it. Call me a coward again. That did numbers.”
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