Marcus watched his younger brother David stuff three chocolate bars into his jacket pocket while the store clerk helped another customer. His stomach twisted into a knot as David winked at him and walked casually toward the exit.
Outside, David laughed triumphantly. "Easy, right? Nobody even noticed." He offered one of the bars to Marcus, but Marcus shook his head, feeling something cold settle in his chest.
"We should go back," Marcus said quietly.
David's smile vanished. "Are you serious? It's three candy bars. The store makes millions. They won't even miss them."
That night, Marcus couldn't sleep. He kept seeing the store clerk's tired face, thinking about how the missing inventory might come out of her paycheck. He thought about their grandfather, who had worked in a corner store for forty years and often spoke about the small thefts that slowly ate away at his livelihood.
The next morning, Marcus found David at breakfast. "I'm going back to pay for them," he announced. "You can come or not."
David rolled his eyes. "You're making a big deal out of nothing."
But when Marcus walked into the store alone and placed the money on the counter, explaining what had happened, something shifted inside him. The clerk looked surprised, then smiled. "It takes courage to do what's right," she said.
Walking home, Marcus realized his brother was wrong. Integrity wasn't about the size of the act. It was about who you chose to be when no one was watching.