The couple paused. For a second—just a second—hope flickered. Then the man shook his head. “We’re good.” They walked past without another glance. Chauncy nodded politely and stepped back into his spot like nothing had happened.
But that little spark of hope? It died just as fast as it came.
More people came. More people left. Chauncy asked every time—carefully, politely, the same as always. Sometimes they didn’t hear him. Sometimes they pretended not to. A few gave a quick “no” without even slowing down. Each rejection was small by itself. But together, they piled into something heavier. Something harder to shake.
After a while, Chauncy stopped stepping forward so quickly. His voice got quieter. The words he’d practiced on the walk over started to feel harder to say. Still, he didn’t stop. He couldn’t.
A woman walked out, adjusting her purse while balancing two grocery bags in one hand. Chauncy hesitated for a moment—then stepped forward anyway.
“Ma’am… can I help carry those for you? Just for something small to eat?”
She paused. Looked at him. Not past him. Not through him. At him. Chauncy felt his chest tighten. Waiting. Not for a yes. Just… not for another no.
For a moment, she didn’t speak. Her eyes moved over him—his worn shoes, the loose threads on his sleeve, the way he stood like he was trying to take up as little space as possible. Then her expression softened.
