A literary argument free-response question with model answers. Write your own response first, then reveal the model to see exactly how each part earns its point.
For eleven years, Marisol had kept her father's hardware store running on a single principle: never extend credit. "A debt is a wound that doesn't close," he used to say, and she'd repeated it so often that the words had stopped feeling like his and started feeling like her own. So when Teo Alvarez came in the week after the flood, soaked boots leaving prints across her floor, and asked to take a generator now and pay for it in the fall, she said no before he'd finished the sentence.
He didn't argue. He just stood there a moment, looking at the rows of shovels and water pumps she'd ordered the month before, as if calculating something. Then he thanked her anyway and left, and Marisol felt the particular satisfaction of having done the smart thing, the survivable thing, the thing her father would have done.
It was her brother who told her, three days later, that the Alvarez well had gone dry and their two cows had died standing in the heat, and that Teo had walked four miles to a cousin's house to borrow a pump he didn't know how to install. Marisol said nothing. She rang up the next customer's sandbags and made correct change.
But that night she found herself recalculating the store's numbers — not the ones in the ledger, but older ones: the year her father had let the whole Delgado family run a tab through a bad winter, the year he'd told her that a hardware store in a town like this wasn't really selling hardware, it was selling the ability to keep going. She had remembered the rule. She had forgotten the reason for it.
The next morning she drove a generator to the Alvarez farm herself, before the store opened, and left it in the yard with a note that said nothing about payment at all. She didn't tell Teo she'd come. She didn't tell her brother either. But for the first time in eleven years, when she unlocked the store's front door, the principle she repeated to herself was different: a debt is a wound, yes — but so is refusing to help someone heal.