The owner had seen everything. He wasn’t touched. I was dismissed before my shift was over.
Six weeks later, while pulling my old apron from a drawer, I found a small folded note tucked in the pocket. It was from her. One line only:
“Kindness might cost you—but it’s never wasted.”
That same evening, tired from job hunting and disappointment, I walked past a café with a glowing “Help Wanted” sign. I hesitated, then stepped inside. The manager listened patiently—not just to my experience, but to my story.
When I mentioned the bakery, she smiled gently. “We look for heart here,” she said. “Not just skill.” She hired me that day.
I slipped the hairpin into my pocket again. It felt heavier now, as if it carried meaning.
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