Then Eric inserted his card.
Beep.
“Declined,” the cashier said gently.
Eric frowned immediately. “That’s impossible.”
He tried again.
Beep.
Declined.
I remember feeling embarrassed before I felt worried. That’s the strange thing about public financial problems: humiliation arrives faster than fear. Suddenly you become hyperaware of strangers nearby pretending not to listen while absolutely listening.
Eric laughed awkwardly.
“Probably fraud protection,” he muttered.
But his voice sounded wrong.
Too sharp.
Too defensive.
The cashier offered the tight smile customer service workers master after years of witnessing human breakdowns in public places.
“Do you have another form of payment?”
Eric’s face changed instantly.
Not panic.
Not confusion.
Something worse.
Recognition.
That was the first moment my stomach dropped.
Because there’s a huge difference between someone surprised by a problem and someone silently realizing a problem has finally surfaced in front of witnesses.
He pulled out another card.
Declined.
Then another.
Declined again.
