For weeks, I stayed up late, watching camera footage and setting traps, determined to catch the person stealing from my small grocery store. But nothing could have prepared me for what I found when I finally caught them—a truth that had been hidden from me for long years.
At my age, most people were thinking about retirement, buying a little house in Florida, or taking long vacations. But not me.
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I was thinking about how to make my store better. When you owned a business, especially a small grocery store like mine, there was no such thing as rest. I had run this store for many years.
Over time, new shops had opened nearby, and competition had grown, but I never gave up.
I worked hard to make my store more than just a place to buy food. I wanted people to feel welcome, like they were visiting an old friend.
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Some of my customers had been coming for twenty or even thirty years. I watched them grow up, fall in love, and start families.
Then their kids started coming in—and that meant the world to me. It meant I had done something right.
But recently, something felt off. I started noticing little things missing from the shelves.
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Not just one or two items, but enough to make me wonder. I stocked everything myself, so I knew what was there. Something was definitely wrong.
Mr. Green came up to the register with a small basket in his hand. He gave me a friendly smile. “How are you doing today, Margaret?” he asked.
“I’m doing fine, thank you. How about you?” I said with a smile.
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“I’m good,” he said. “But I noticed something. There’s not much dairy on the shelves. You usually have the best selection in town.”
I looked at him, surprised. “That can’t be right. I filled the whole section just yesterday. Every last shelf.”
He raised his eyebrows and shrugged. “Maybe you missed something. Or maybe it’s time to slow down. You ever think about handing the store over to someone else? Do you have kids?”
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His words hit me hard. I froze for a moment, then looked straight at him. I didn’t smile this time. “Goodbye, Mr. Green,” I said firmly. I bagged his items and handed them to him without another word.
As if! I still had plenty of strength. Mr. Green acted like I was ready for a rocking chair and soft food. I was not even sixty yet!
I worked hard every day, lifting boxes, sweeping floors, and dealing with customers. But his words touched a spot deep inside me. A place I tried to keep buried.
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Children.
I had a daughter once. Just one. She ran away from home fifteen years ago. No phone call. No goodbye. Just a note.
She said she was leaving to start a new life. I searched for her everywhere. I called the police, but they said she left on her own, so it was not their job.
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That made me so angry. She was my child. She was still so young. How could they not help?
I shook my head and forced myself back to the present. I walked to the dairy fridge. It was still early, and hardly anyone had come in yet.
But I saw the truth with my own eyes—many items were missing. Yogurt, milk, cheese—whole rows gone.
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It was not just forgetfulness or bad math. Someone was stealing from me.
I always trusted people. That was why I never installed cameras. I believed people were good. I believed they would do the right thing. But now, I had no choice.
The next day, I had cameras installed. It cost me a good bit, but I had to protect my store. The day after that, I sat at the back counter and watched the footage.
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At first, it looked normal. The store was dark and still. But then, a figure appeared. They moved quickly and quietly, taking things off the shelves.
They wore a hood pulled low over their face. I clicked through the video, hoping to see a face, but I never did. Somehow, they stayed hidden.
Still, I knew I had to do something. I put the footage on a flash drive and drove to the police station.
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I walked up to the front desk and told the officer on duty what had happened.
He led me to a small room and plugged in the footage. He watched the screen with a bored look on his face.
“So,” he said, leaning back in his chair, “what do you want from us?”
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I stared at him. “What do I want? I want you to do your job. Someone is breaking into my store and stealing my products. I want you to find out who it is.”
He pointed at the screen. “You can’t even see their face. They’re wearing a hood the whole time. We don’t have anything to go on.”
I felt my hands tighten. “But that’s your job!”
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“My advice? Get an alarm system,” the officer said.
I scoffed, grabbed the footage, and walked out of the station. As if! Giving me advice like I was some lost old lady.
But still, I went ahead and had the alarm system installed. I did not want to take any more chances.
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For a few days, things seemed better. Nothing went missing. The shelves stayed full. I started to breathe easier.
Then, one morning, I walked in and froze. Again, shelves were empty. Not everything, but enough to notice. Yet the alarm had not gone off. My stomach turned.
As I stood by the fridge, Mr. Green walked by with a little shake of his head. “Your selection keeps getting smaller and smaller,” he said. “Maybe my wife and I should start going to another store.”
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Those words stung. My heart pounded. I could not lose customers. This store was my life. It paid my bills and kept a roof over my head.
If I could not stop this thief, I could lose everything. If no one would help me, then I would help myself.
That night, I closed the shop like always, turned off the lights, and walked out the front door.
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But I did not go home. I circled around to the back, unlocked the rear door, and slipped inside. I crouched behind the counter and waited.
It was quiet. Too quiet. I almost dozed off, but then I heard it—the door creaked, and the alarm beeped off.
My heart jumped. I peeked up and saw the same figure moving around the aisles.
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Small, quick, quiet. I crept forward. Step by step. Then I lunged and grabbed the hoodie.
“Got you!” I yelled.
The person dropped everything and struggled. I pulled back the hood. He was just a boy. Fourteen, maybe. Thin. Scared. His eyes locked with mine.
He had her eyes.
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“Who are you? Why are you stealing from me?” I asked.
He did not answer. He pulled down the zipper, slipped out of the hoodie, and ran. I tried to follow but could not. I stood there, breathing hard, holding the hoodie in my hands.
Those eyes. I knew them. They belonged to my daughter. How was that possible? Could he be…?
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After I caught the boy red-handed, the thefts stopped completely, but I could not stop thinking about him.
Every time I looked at the shelves or walked through the store, my mind went back to that night. I kept seeing his face, those eyes that reminded me so much of my daughter.
I felt torn. He was just a child, and part of me wanted to go to the police, but the other part needed to know who he was and why he looked so familiar.
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One evening, as I was driving home from work, I saw a figure in a hoodie coming out of a closed store.
My heart skipped a beat. Was it him? I watched as he walked over to a bicycle, took some groceries out of his hoodie, and put them into a backpack.
He kept his hood up the whole time. I stayed in my car and decided to follow him. I knew if I tried to talk to him, he would run again.
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I kept a safe distance as he rode through the streets. After a while, he stopped near a small but tidy house.
He parked his bicycle behind it and went inside. I sat for a moment, holding the same hoodie he had left behind in my store.
My hands were shaking as I got out of the car and walked to the front door. I knocked softly. No one came. I waited. I was about to leave when I heard footsteps approaching.
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Then the door opened.
And there she was—my daughter. I froze. She looked older, tired maybe, but it was her. My heart almost stopped.
She was no longer the girl who had run away from me. She was a grown woman now, standing in the doorway, staring at me in shock.
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“Alice…” I whispered, my voice barely coming out. My hands were still shaking.
She blinked like she was seeing a ghost. “Mom? What are you doing here?”
I looked into her eyes. They were the same, even after all these years. “So you were nearby all this time, and I couldn’t find you.”
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She looked down. “Not the whole time. I moved around a lot. That’s not important now. Why are you here? How did you find me?”
I didn’t answer right away. I reached into my bag and held up the boy’s hoodie.
Her eyes widened. “Where did you get Travis’s hoodie?”
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Before I could speak, the boy—the same one who stole from my store—appeared in the hallway.
“Mom! Close the door!” he shouted, his voice full of fear.
Alice turned to him. “What? What’s going on?”
I stepped forward. “Travis was stealing from my store.”
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“WHAT?!” she shouted. Her face turned red with shock.
“Please don’t call the police,” Travis said, his voice shaking. “I promise I won’t steal from your store again.”
“I know,” I said softly. “But I saw you today. You were stealing from another store.”
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Alice turned to him, her voice sharp. “Travis, what is this? Why would you steal?”
He looked down at the floor. “Because you work so much. We never have enough money. I wanted to help.”
“So you thought stealing was the answer?” she shouted.
“I sold the stuff. I gave you the money in secret. I thought I was helping,” he said.
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Alice covered her face with her hands. “That is not how we solve problems. Stealing is wrong, Travis. Always.”
She looked at me. Her voice was quieter now. “I’m sorry, Mom. I’ll handle it. He won’t do it again. Please don’t turn him in to the police.”
She reached for the door, but I held it.
“That’s it?” I asked. “I haven’t seen you in fifteen years, and you have nothing more to say? Who is Travis? Is he your son?”
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Alice nodded. Tears filled her eyes. “Yes. He’s my son.”
“May I come in?” I asked, almost in a whisper.
She paused. Then she stepped aside and let me in.
She led me to a small kitchen. I sat down and looked around. It was neat but worn.
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“If you were having money problems, why didn’t you come to me? Why didn’t you ask for help?” I asked.
“Because I was ashamed,” she said.
“I searched for you. I waited fifteen years. I didn’t know you even had a child,” I said.
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“I was already pregnant when I left. That was one of the reasons. You told me to stay away from Travis’s father. You were right. He was no good. But I didn’t listen. He left me soon after,” Alice said.
“Then why didn’t you come home?”
“Because I was ashamed. I thought you hated me.”
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“Oh, Alice,” I said, standing and walking to her. “You’re my daughter. How could I ever hate you?”
I gently wrapped my arms around her, and she held me just as tight. We both cried without saying a word.
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All the pain from the past seemed to melt in that moment. It felt like coming home after being lost for years.
After we calmed down, Alice turned to Travis and scolded him firmly. She made it clear that stealing was never the answer. He nodded, ashamed.
Still, I looked at him with something close to gratitude. I kept thanking him in my heart. If he had not taken from me, I would never have found my family again.
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If you enjoyed this story, read this one: Feeling unappreciated and exhausted, I decided to take a break from my marriage and clear my head. But when my car broke down miles from home, I found myself stranded at a small motel. What started as a simple getaway soon led to an unexpected reunion — one that changed everything. Read the full story here.
Boy Gives up Dream Shoes to Buy Boots for Poor Classmate, Soon Truck Stops at His House to Reward Him — Story of the Day
12-year-old David was excited to buy new sneakers after saving up for months but decided to buy boots for his classmate whose shoes were tattered. Little did he know that his kindness would be rewarded in an unexpected way.
David always found himself a window seat on the school bus back home. As always, he opened the window wide and let the afternoon breeze brush across his face as he recollected the game he played that day, moment by moment.
“That was unbelievable, what you did on the field today!” one of his mates had said.
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“I think we’ve got a national-level player on our hands, guys. Get your autographs while you can!” another player teased David, patting his back almost a bit too hard.
That was the distant dream — playing for his country and creating history, like all his soccer heroes.
David could almost taste it; the sweet air of victory and pride when his team and he held the golden championship trophy and smiled for the photographs.
David would constantly rehearse what he would say for the cameras and the papers at the end of the match. How he rose from humble beginnings. And how he owed his mother everything he had become.
“Excuse me, may I sit here?”
David was so deep in his daydream that he didn’t realize one of his classmates had asked permission to sit next to him.
The boy sat down next to David, hugged his backpack, and started dreaming his own dream. ‘I want to become the best soccer player in the school. Just like David. I can’t believe I’m sitting next to him!’
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The boy was a true fan of David’s game and wouldn’t miss a chance to watch him play. In his mind, David was everything he wanted to be. He wanted to play like him, have tons of friends like him, and even wear those fancy soccer shoes David was wearing.
‘These old tattered shoes should do…for now,’ the boy thought, hiding his feet under the seat out of embarrassment.
Guillermo was always shy and found it challenging to make friends. One day, the boy finally found the courage to talk to his hero.
“Hi, David! I’m Guillermo. I’m your biggest fan!”
“Oh? Hi, Guillermo! Thank you.”
There was an awkward silence as David went back to daydreaming.
“I…really like your shoes!” Guillermo blurted the first thing that came to his mind.
“These? These are really old, and the soles have already started to come off. You should see the new shoes I’ll be getting…” David’s eyes lit up, thinking about the dreamy pair of sneakers he had been saving up for.
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“Tell me more about them!” Guillermo said, slowly tucking his feet under the seat. He didn’t want David to see how ugly and tattered his own shoes were.
“Well, they’re perfect! They’re neon orange, and they’ve got unbeatable grip…”
It had been seven months since David had been raising money to buy the pair of sneakers he wanted. This was the first time the 12-year-old wanted to buy something for himself. And he wanted to do it without burdening his mother. He knew how hard his mother worked, struggling to provide for him and his two younger twin sisters.
“Mom, you don’t need to contribute. Tracy and Katie have their birthdays coming up soon, and you need to save up to throw a tea party, remember?”
David saved up enough money. He did it with the help of a short paper route every morning and the savings from the lemonade stand he had put up the last vacation. Until one day, his piggy bank was full, and he finally had enough to bring his dream shoes home.
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On the bus ride home from school that day, he couldn’t stop talking about it with Guillermo.
“Guillermo! I did it! I’m going straight to the store after homework this evening and buying the best sneakers in town. In fact, I’ll come and pick you up, and you can accompany me to the shop. It’s going to be the best feeling ever!”
Guillermo felt genuine happiness for his idol. That’s when the bus suddenly jolted over a pothole, and one of Guillermo’s shoes fell off onto the bus floor.
David was taken aback at the sight of the worn-out, blackened shoe. It was a pair of thin, low-quality summer shoes that had seen too many seasons. There were holes in the sole, the canvas was coming apart, and there was no sign of a lace.
Guillermo let the other shoe fall, giving in to the feeling of shame.
David had tears in his eyes when he looked at his friend, hiding his face in his palms, sobbing quietly but uncontrollably. The two boys didn’t know what to say to each other for the rest of the ride.
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“Be ready by 5 o’clock!” David finally reminded Guillermo of the evening’s plan to visit the store. There was no way David was going to the store alone. Not after what he had seen.
“Ah, David! Here to pick up your new pair of soccer shoes? I’ve got them packed and ready right here.”
“Hold on, sir. Could you show me a pair of those in a smaller size?” David said, pointing at a pair of comfortable boots.
Always help the needy whenever you can.
The shop owner, Mr. Manning, was confused. “But the ones I packed are your exact size, Dave.”
“Not for me, for my friend here,” Dave replied.
Guillermo couldn’t believe what he had heard. He couldn’t possibly let David do that.
“No, David, I don’t need—”
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David squeezed Guillermo’s hand and blinked softly to quiet him. “I’ve got this, Guillermo. You’re always calling me your hero. Let me try and be one for you.”
Mr. Manning heard this exchange between the boys and felt a warmth of love and affection rise in his chest. He knew exactly what to do.
“Woah, this one looks great on you, friend. And it’s the absolute best we’ve got in this store.”
David was finally satisfied with the pair of boots he had bought for his friend. Guillermo’s shame had turned to overwhelm, gratitude, and pure joy over his unexpected gift.
As the boys left the store and cycled away, Mr. Manning signaled his staff. “Listen, there’s something we need to do right away…”
“David! There’s someone at the door for you! He arrived with an entire truck, actually.” David’s mother couldn’t make heads or tails of the strange visitor, either.
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David rushed to the door and found a familiar face. It was Mr. Manning, the shoe store owner. “I heard you talking to your friend at the store, Dave. I know what you did.”
David’s mother leaned in with a crease of suspicion sitting on her brow.
“I know how much you wanted those spiked sneakers, and I’ve seen you selling lemonade and delivering newspapers. And today, I saw you let all that desire go, just so you could help a friend who was in deeper need than you were.”
David lowered his head out of shyness, catching a glimpse of the proud look on his mother’s face from the corner of his eye.
“And I think this kind of kindness and friendship ought to be celebrated in this day and age. So come on! Get on the back of this truck and pick up as many pairs of shoes as you’d like. For you, your mother, and the twins… Don’t worry about the money; this is all on me.”
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David hesitated, looking to his mother for approval. As soon as she nodded, he dashed towards the truck with eyes shining in excitement.
“Hurry, we’ve still got to get to your friend’s house. There are free shoes for him and his family, too!”
What do we learn from this story?
Always help the needy whenever you can. Although David worked hard to buy new sneakers, he used the money to help Guillermo, who was wearing torn shoes.
An act of kindness can be infectious. The shoe store owner noticed David’s kindness. He was inspired by the boy’s actions and decided to help his and his friend’s family.
Share this story with your friends. It might brighten their day and inspire them.
If you enjoyed this story, you might like this one about a boy who received his favorite sneakers from the thrift shop as a gift on his birthday. He noticed an inscription on it and was shocked to learn about its previous owner.
This piece is inspired by stories from the everyday lives of our readers and written by a professional writer. Any resemblance to actual names or locations is purely coincidental. All images are for illustration purposes only. Share your story with us; maybe it will change someone’s life.
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