The Fall No One Claimed
Near the aisle’s end, her toe caught a mat’s edge. Pain shot through her like lightning. The cane skidded across the floor. She collapsed onto the cold tile, a quiet cry swallowed by the hum of the store.
Heads glanced—then turned away. One woman continued scanning yogurt. A man at the endcap stared at his phone. Someone paused, frowned, and moved on. The older woman clung to a shelf, tried to rise, failed. Fingers shook. Eyes glistened. She lifted a hand, asking silently for permission to exist.
Whispers hovered like dust:
“Where are her children?”
“People shouldn’t be out alone at that age.”
“Isn’t there staff for this?”
No one knelt. No one spoke.
