THE GUY WITH THE BABY DOLL AT TARGET WASN’T WHO I THOUGHT HE WAS

A wave of sadness rolled over me. The thought of him pushing his cart through the store each Saturday, doll in hand, made my heart ache. “Hey, before you go… would you like some company for the rest of your shopping? I don’t want to intrude, but I’d love to walk with you.”

I almost expected him to say no. Instead, he paused, eyes flicking to the doll, then back to me. “Sure,” he said softly. “I’d like that.”

So we wandered the aisles together for a while. He grabbed a box of blueberry waffles—“Dani’s favorite”—and told me how she used to get them every time. I picked out that frozen pizza again, along with some fresh fruit. We chatted about small stuff: a sports team I used to follow, the best place for coffee in town, that new action movie everyone was talking about. Now and then, he’d go quiet, cuddling the doll closer, lost in his own world. But he always snapped back into the moment to point out something silly or mention a memory about his daughter.

We got in line at the checkout. I could see people glancing at him, at us, some of them shaking their heads or whispering behind their hands. Marcos stood tall, though I noticed the slight sag in his broad shoulders. I tried to send out a vibe that said, “He’s not doing anything wrong. Leave him alone.” But, of course, people are people.

After we paid, we walked out into the parking lot together. The sun was bright, and the wind was crisp. As we unloaded our groceries into our cars, Marcos looked like he wanted to say something more. He turned to me, doll tucked under one arm. “Thank you,” he said quietly. “Really. For… just listening. For treating me like a normal person. I can’t tell you how much that means.”

Continue reading…