But as I walked home, I heard footsteps behind me. When I turned, it was the same man. “Why so fast, miss?” he called out.
My heart pounded as I tried to hurry, but he kept following. Suddenly, a scream cut through the quiet street. I spun around to see the cashier sprinting toward us, waving his arms.
For a moment, I thought things had gone from bad to worse. Breathless, he shouted, “Miss, wait! You left your wallet!” Everything froze—the streetlights, the cold air, and the confused stare of the man beside me.
Then the cashier turned to him sharply. “Sir, I told you not to leave the store. Police are on their way.” The man raised his hands, confused, insisting it was all a misunderstanding.
The cashier guided me a few steps away and explained that the man wasn’t a customer at all. He had been coming in at odd hours, acting erratically, sometimes following people outside. Staff had been watching him for weeks.
Minutes later, officers arrived and spoke calmly to him, offering help from a community program for those struggling with mental health issues. The situation unfolded with compassion, not confrontation—something I hadn’t expected. The cashier walked me home afterward, keeping a respectful distance.
Before leaving, he said, “We try our best to keep everyone safe.” His quiet act of protection stayed with me long after I closed my door.
