“No. No. This––I have my money. Take my money. Take my goddamn money.”

They wouldn’t. A man came from the back room and stood beside the cashier; they both looked anxious as they tried to explain to the man with the money why. He crumpled a ten-dollar bill in his hand and then watched as it slowly opened in his palm.

“This ain’t fair. This ain’t no fuckin’ fair.” He whispered.

“We told you, we just can’t.”

A line of tears zigzagged down the man’s face before he staggered out of the store. The cashier and I shared no words as I paid for my beer.

For more, visit the Portraits of Brief Encounters website, or follow Cole Nowicki on Instagram or Twitter.