Jenny Millers had worked at Rosie’s Diner for years, greeting each sunrise with a practiced smile. Life in the small town was quiet, sometimes too quiet, and her days blended together like the steady rhythm of the coffee machine. One October morning, she noticed a boy sitting alone in the farthest booth. His backpack was almost bigger than he was, and he always had the same book open in front of him. Day after day, he came in at the same time, ordered only a glass of water, read in silence, and left before school began.

On the fifteenth morning, Jenny carried a plate of pancakes to his booth. She placed it down gently. “The kitchen made an extra,” she said with a warm smile. “Better for you to enjoy it than let it go to waste.” The boy stared at the plate, unsure, but his hunger won over his hesitation. Ten minutes later, the plate was spotless. “Thank you,” he whispered before heading out the door. That small moment touched Jenny’s heart in a way she hadn’t felt in a long time.