There was a silence that followed, heavier than before, but different now. The kind that comes when people realize the situation isn’t going to go the way they expected. I watched as my boss pulled out a chair himself, setting it at a clean table near the counter, not hidden away, not pushed to the side—right in the middle of everything.
“Go ahead,” he said gently.
The man sat, slowly, like he was afraid the offer might disappear if he moved too fast.
As I walked over with a glass of water, I noticed something I hadn’t seen before—a small, worn patch stitched onto the man’s jacket. It was faded, but still recognizable. Military. My chest tightened slightly as the realization settled in.
My boss saw it too.
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