“Please,” she murmured, “just a loaf of bread.”
She didn’t have any money, but something in her eyes made me reach for the warmest loaf on the shelf. She smiled faintly, placed a simple hairpin in my hand, and said softly, “You’ll need this one day.”
I kept the hairpin anyway, though I couldn’t explain why. It felt meaningless—until six weeks later, when I slipped my hand into the pocket of my old apron and found a folded note tucked inside.
It was from her.
Just one line: “Sometimes kindness costs, but it never goes unpaid.”
That evening, after weeks of job hunting and disappointment, I passed a café with a Help Wanted sign glowing in the window. I hesitated, then stepped inside. The manager didn’t just ask about my résumé—she listened to my story.
When I mentioned the bakery, her face softened.
“We value hearts here,” she said. “Not just hands.”
She hired me right then.
Continue reading…
