Without letting myself hesitate, I ordered two shawarmas and two coffees. I handed them to him. His hands shook as he accepted them, murmuring a quiet blessing that felt heavier than the gesture itself.
As I turned to leave, he stopped me gently. He scribbled something on a small piece of paper and asked me to read it later. I slipped it into my pocket and went home, where life quickly took over.
The next evening, I found the note while emptying my coat. The message stunned me: I had helped him once before. A date and place were written beneath—something I barely remembered.
Then it came back. A rainy afternoon, a crowded café, and a man who looked completely defeated. I had bought him something small, nothing I thought would matter.
But it had mattered.
That realization changed everything.
