What a confusion! I was sure that in my wallet, not counting the little things, there were two hundred notes with portraits of Franklin, so I did not deny anything to myself.

And here I stand at the box office of the Kowalsky supermarket somewhere between Minneapolis and St. Paul – with a wheelchair, with my younger son hanging on my swimsuit with the screams “Mommy, on the fingers!”, with a mountain of purchases, which the cashier’s assistant cleverly dissolves on the bags. The packages were three. On the chocolate face of the assistant shines a smile.
The cashier gently observes:

One hundred and forty five dollars.

I squeezed into my wallet and discovered one—only one—a hundred-cent note and a little thing.

The cheeks blink, the head under the hat becomes wet and begins to itch. I must note, I was carefully equipped, planning to go to the store on foot on a twenty-degree frost.
From the inconvenience of the situation, my English becomes complicated. I apologize and admit that I made a mistake.
The cashier does not understand what the mistake is. The assistant’s smile is blurred. The son announces that he immediately plans to build a home of Lego.

Everyone expects something from me.

Not able to tolerate the sauna on my head, I shake my hat, pour out the contents of the wallet on the shelf and express the desire to give up the part of shopping.

The assistant is accepted to get the goods specified by me from the packages, and the cashier re-calculates the sum.
The amount is not approaching acceptable. There is a turn behind us.

Finally, after removing the pizza with pineapples – which, by the way, was not caught by me, but the child – the account becomes such that I even got back some of the little things.

Unlike Russian stores, in Kowalsk, the cashiers and their assistants stand between the cashiers right next to the buyers from the neighbouring ranks.

A buyer from another row — I don’t understand why — suddenly begins to talk to my cashier. The word “she” comes before me, repeated several times.
The son, having removed some bandage from my sweater, stops the assault and is doomed to climb into the wheelchair. I put the weakened three bags in a basket under the seat.

In the meantime there is a change of cashier. The new one fits, interrupts a couple of words with the previous one and, remaining one, says something to the assistant. He gives me the fourth package.
I look inside confused. There was all the good that I didn’t have enough money for. I explain to the new cashier, who, apparently, does not know:

I cannot take it. I have no money.
Of course you can, she says. It is yours. Take this.
Two dazzling smiles shone in the flashlight as I — like in a dream — roll my bag into a crowded wheelchair and leave the store.
Nave a nice day! Reported from behind.

The snow went. The white dust melt, barely touching the burning cheeks. I don’t feel the frost. I do not understand anything.

What kind of shop is this? How is it possible at all? Have you decided to give me a gift for $35? At least they would give it to themselves.

Everything around is silver and shining, snowflakes melt. I feel like I was a child when I went out of the tree with a Christmas present.
I thought that the nearest way back would be tired, but somewhere took so much strength that three more such paths would have flown.
In the evening, I tell my sister and her husband-French an unusual story of store generosity.

Do you imagine? I never thought it would happen that the store gave me a bag of gifts!

“And that’s not the case,” they say, throwing me from heaven to earth.
I knock my eyes, trying to figure out who is cheating here, I shop me or I shop.

Did you notice that the man who stood behind you in the line did not say anything to the cashier? After consulting, the sister and her husband are interested.
No, nothing is anything.

Then really, it is strange.
What does this have to do here? I was surprised. Oh yes, I remembered it! A woman who was in the next row asked something of my cashier. They said “shi”, “shi”, meaning “she”, “she”.
Now it is clear! My sister and her husband laughed and, when they noticed my confusion, explained, “This woman paid for your purchases. This is not uncommon here.

I understand that I stand with my mouth open and, trying to give myself a smarter look, I object:

But she told me nothing. I didn’t even look at her. I do not even remember her face. I did not thank her.
She didn’t do it to thank her. She just helped.

I tried to understand what I heard. That is, nobody will ever know about it – except the cashier, of course – and yet she did. I saw that I lacked money and just helped.

- Sometimes you go to the MacAuto window, - continued the sister, - you get the money and you are told that your order has already been paid by the previous buyer.

Hands and neck became weak. Oh yeah, it’s called “Fleeing Murders.” There is something in this from the old children's book "Timor and his team", where the Timurists secretly helped people. Only here to do a good deed, you do not need to join any organization. And the secret blessings are not the children, but the big uncles and aunts.

You don’t see him, but he sees you.
“Wow,” the sister regularly agrees, “as a rule, in such cases the cashier says, ‘I was asked to say, ‘Rass it on.’ Send it on.
I remembered one St. Petersburg institution with a similar service system, where we are not constantly reporting food. When this is discovered, you don’t want to go back — most often — so now we are carefully checking the packages on site. Interestingly, these unfair sellers would admit, think our people would pay for each other, or they would take two fees for one order.

Pass it on? I question dispersely.
and yes. It means that when you’re fine and there’s a chance, just do something for someone like that. A few days ago I went to a coffee shop for lunch, and it turned out that I could not pay by card, only in cash, and I lacked the coffee I love. I said I don’t have to, I’ll go another time. But the man who stood behind me said, no-no, give her this coffee, I’ll pay.

But maybe he liked you, and he wanted to meet you that way?
This is from the series “Continue”. We are doing so. We did not talk anymore.

The sister’s voice sounded relentlessly, and yet there was a sense of pride in it – for the people around her.

Ten years ago, I watched “Pay another” about the boy Trevor, who came up with a way to change the world. His idea was reduced to selfish help to three people, each of whom, in turn, should help three other strangers, "to pass the good on." The boy hoped that the number of good deeds would grow in geometric progression. At the end of the film, Trevor died, but, as it turns out, his idea broke out of the screen and continues to live.

Moreover, I was involved in this too. It turns out, I should continue the chain, at least here, in Russia. That is, someday one of you may get my “staff stick.” In short, do not be surprised if you find yourself in a difficult situation, and a stranger will help you, or if someone will give you a gift. Just “Send it on.”

P.S I showed this note to my mother. She immediately began to tell excitedly how recently she was sitting in Minneapolis on the wrong bus. It was up to the end, so she fell asleep peacefully and found herself in a completely strange area. The first stranger to whom her mother appealed agreed to take her home. The path was not close, but when asked “How much do I owe you?” he replied that he owe nothing, and said the same thing – “Pass it on.”

by Yulia Shalomova.