already apologizing for mentioning the problem. Daniel handed him the money before he could find another reason not to accept it.
"Please take it," Daniel said. "You can get home without worrying about transfers, and you can save the rest for tomorrow." Harold shook his head.
"I can't take your money, Dan. You have that little girl." Daniel thought of Lily's careful questions at the grocery store and the banana she had divided in half. "That's exactly why I want to help," he replied. "If she saw me turn away from somebody who needed a ride home, I'd have to explain myself to her."
Harold looked down at the folded bill until his eyes shone. "I'll pay you back on Wednesday." Daniel shook his head.
"If you need to, pay somebody else when you can. Right now, go get your bus." He waited until Harold stood, collected his bag, and began walking toward the transit stop. Then Daniel looked at his own empty wallet and calculated the distance home.
It was a little under two miles to the duplex if he took the streets behind the old market. The evening air had cooled, and his legs were already sore from climbing ladders, but the walk would save the last balance on his transit card for an emergency. He took the longer route that avoided a steep hill, passed a grocery store where vegetables were being discounted for the night, and considered stopping. In the end he kept going, knowing there was enough pasta and frozen food at home for another dinner. He told himself it was a small inconvenience, the kind that barely counted unless he made it count.
By the time he reached the front door, Lily had eaten with Mrs. Alvarez, the neighbor who watched her on late afternoons. A small plate was waiting in the refrigerator with his name written on a piece of paper.