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My heart did a slow, painful somersault in my chest. Policy said call the owner, Mr. Sterling, who was a stickler for the rules and had a zero-tolerance policy for shoplifting, no matter the reason. The security camera hummed above us, a silent, unblinking witness that felt like a judge waiting for my verdict. But looking at this little girl, whose name I found out was Maya, I couldn’t bring myself to pick up the phone. I thought about my own mum and how much she loved the garden, and I realized that some things are more important than a store’s bottom line—and that perhaps, in the silence of the shop, I was choosing between being a cog in a machine or a human being. I told Maya to wait a moment, and I walked over to the register, my fingers trembling as I reached for the till.
