I Paid for Baby Formula for a Struggling Mom of Three – the Next Day, a Soldier Knocked on My Door

I was third in line when I noticed the woman ahead of me. Young, maybe mid-20s, wearing a janitor’s uniform with a name badge that read “Allison.” Her hands were full.

A toddler sat in the cart crying. A preschooler clung to her leg.

A baby squirmed in a carrier strapped to her chest.

She was trying to count coins from her wallet, her face flushed, her hands shaking as she held up a single can of formula.

The cashier waited, expressionless.

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