Denial

"What do you mean you're sold out?" Johnny demanded.

The clerk sighed and pushed the kid's money back towards him. "Look, son," he repeated himself, "I know you really want one of these new games. But so do a lot of other people. A lot of other people who, coincidentally, knew they wanted this game before you did. So either they pre-ordered it, or they came early to snag the few extra copies we had. We're sold out now. End of story."

Johnny huffed and stood his ground, refusing to accept the man's words. "But this is a hugely popular game!" he exclaimed. "You must have known lots of people would want it and got tons of copies!"

"Yeah," the clerk responded. "We did. And they all sold out. It's like you just said. It's a hugely popular game. A lot of people wanted it. So much so that they already managed to buy all the copies that we had come in. Now, can you please go home. You're holding up the line."

Johnny harrumphed for what must have been the tenth time, grabbing his money and shoving it into his pocket. He had been saving up to buy this game for what felt like months. He had watched the trailers and sneak peak videos a thousand times. And now that it was finally out, he had been robbed of his opportunity to play it.

He walked out of the store, barely registering the sighs of relief he heard from the people who had formed a line behind him. He was so mad and upset over the fact that he had come slow close that he barely registered anything else. He was only broken out of his trance when, out of the corner of his eyes he saw something laying on the ground.

He knelt down to pick it up and found, to his amazement, that it was the game he had come to purchase, brand new and still wrapped. He felt his whole body shake with excitement, and he scooped the game off of the ground, letting out a yelp of success. Visions of getting home and pulling it out of its case, finally playing it after waiting for so long danced through his head. And best of all, he hadn't even needed to use the money that he had been saving up for so long. He could use it on something else.

But then he heard something. In the distance, he heard a faint crying. Confused, holding his new game tight to his side, he turned and walked towards the sound. Turning a corner, he saw a child a few years younger than himself crying, rubbing his eyes, as his mother searched through the many bags she was holding on to.

"I'm sorry dear," Johnny heard the mother say. "I don't know where your game went."

Johnny looked down at the game in his hands. It was suddenly so clear to him. It didn't make sense for there to just be a pristine game like this to be laying on the ground, discarded. It had to come from somewhere. And this child had lost his copy.

He stared at the game, conflicted. He could keep it, walk away. The child and mother hadn't seen him, and they couldn't possibly know that the copy of the game he was holding was the one they had lost. He could enjoy it, probably more than the kid would. But it wasn't his. He hadn't paid for it. He hadn't made it on time. They had.

Johnny made up his mind, reluctantly. He walked out from around the corner, and coughed, catching the mother's attention. She looked at him, confused, until he held out the game. "I found this on the ground," he said, his voice quiet. "I think this is yours."

The mother smiled at him, relieved. "Thank you so much," she said, gently taking it from him. She kneeled down and placed the game into her son's hands. The child wiped his eyes so he could see the game between his tears and, realizing what it was, let out a slightly strangled cry of joy. She picked the boy up and turned back to thank Johnny again.

But he was already gone. He walked back towards his home, feeling a little empty, but surprisingly happy.