Samantha Rouge was known for her flawless skin, a secret she attributed to her nightly ritual of applying baby oil after a warm bath. It was a routine she never skipped, no matter how busy her day had been. But tonight, as she stood in the bathroom, she realized with a sinking feeling that her bottle of baby oil was empty. She sighed, glancing at the clock. It was late, but the store down the street was still open. She threw on a casual outfit—a loose sweater and jeans—and headed out. The cool evening air brushed against her face as she walked briskly to the store. The fluorescent lights of the convenience store buzzed softly as she entered, her eyes scanning the shelves for the familiar bottle of baby oil. She found it quickly, clutching it in her hands like a lifeline. But as she reached into her pocket for her wallet, her heart sank. It wasn’t there. She must have left it at home in her rush. Panic set in. She couldn’t skip her ritual—her skin would feel dry and tight by morning. She glanced around the store, her eyes landing on a man browsing the snack aisle. He looked ordinary, maybe in his late twenties, wearing a hoodie and jeans. Samantha took a deep breath and approached him. “Excuse me,” she said, her voice soft but confident. The man turned, surprised. “I know this is going to sound strange, but I forgot my wallet, and I really need this baby oil. Could you possibly buy it for me? I’ll pay you back, I promise.” The man blinked, clearly taken aback. He looked at the bottle in her hand, then back at her face. “Uh… sure, I guess,” he said hesitantly. “But how will I know you’ll pay me back?” Samantha hesitated for a moment, then made a decision. “I’ll send you a video,” she said, her tone serious. “A video of me using the baby oil tonight. That way, you’ll know I’m not lying.” The man’s eyes widened, and he chuckled nervously. “Okay, that’s… not what I expected. But alright, deal.” He took the bottle from her and headed to the checkout, paying for it without another word. Samantha thanked him profusely, taking the bag from him. “What’s your number?” she asked. “I’ll send you the video tonight.” He gave her his number, still looking a little stunned, and she hurried home, the baby oil safely in hand. That night, after her bath, Samantha set up her phone on the bathroom counter. She poured the baby oil into her hands, the familiar scent calming her as she began to massage it into her skin. She recorded the process, making sure to capture the way the oil glistened on her arms and legs, the smoothness it left behind. When she was done, she sent the video to the man with a simple message: Thank you again. I hope this keeps my promise. The next morning, she received a reply: You’re welcome. And just so you know, I wasn’t expecting that, but… you have amazing skin. Take care. Samantha smiled, shaking her head. It had been an unusual night, but her skin felt as soft as ever. And as for the stranger? Well, she hoped he enjoyed the video—it was the least she could do.