I gave 100 euros to a young woman who was asking for milk for her baby; a month later I found out who she really was.

He just looked her up and down and decided he knew her whole life.

After I handed her the money, Lucia looked at me in surprise.

—Ma’am, I don’t need that much.

—Buy what you need for the child.

—I can give you back the rest.

—It’s not necessary.

Then he did something I still remember.

He took a pen out of his backpack and wrote something on the back of a receipt.

—At least give me your phone number.

I denied it.

—You don’t need to give me anything back.

Her eyes filled with tears.

—It’s not about giving him back his money.

He put the paper away.

—I wanted to thank you when I can think clearly.

Before leaving, she looked at Alberto.

I was hoping he would say something.

He didn’t.

He just left.

My husband shook his head.

—I’m sure he’ll be doing the same thing at another store tomorrow.

—You don’t know that.

—Marta, wake up. Those people live off people like you.

—Who are “those people”?

-You already know.

—No. Explain it to me.

He did not respond.

We finished shopping in silence.

We argued that night.

Not for the hundred euros.