On Christmas Eve, seventy-three-year-old George selected his food carefully. Skim milk was $2.99, white bread, 89 cents with a 10-cent discount. Leaving the cashier, he calculated that he had saved 80 cents today.
his pockets, again, including the grocery bag. Now he was sure they must have been dropped somewhere inside the store.
Old George had bought the black leather gloves at a 25% discount, for just $35.00, ten years ago. They were soft and warm and very durable. He had taken care not to let a drop of water or rain touch his expensive gloves, so they looked like new. Losing this favorite possession was almost like losing a child to him.
George, calm on the outside but nervous inside, re-entered the store. He followed the same route he had walked before, starting at the bread counter, to the milk section, the corner where salt and sugar were placed, then the rest of the store. Several minutes of anxious searching turned out to be in vain. He asked the customers whether they saw a pair of black leather gloves, but they said no. Then he went over to the cashier without hesitation to ask if she had received any lost gloves, but only received the same answer. His heart grew heavier.
“Society has changed, people have changed,” he murmured to himself. “Years ago, if somebody picked up something lost, they would give it back. Now the good action is lost.”
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