The Kindness of Strangers Hits Differently

"Sir, I’ve been telling you not to worry for a long time now. See how much weight you've lost."

That was Mrs Daniels' voice ringing in my ears as I sat in her shop that evening. It was drizzling, and there weren’t many customers around. It was just the two of us in the shop.

I had lost my job three months ago. Every morning, I would still dress up in my suit, pretending I was going to work, wandering around LA looking for opportunities. Even my wife didn’t know—I couldn’t bring myself to tell her. My pride wouldn’t let me.

"Here, eat this rice first," Mrs Daniels said, pushing a plate toward me. "You think I don’t know what’s going on? My own child has gone through something like this before."

I started shaking my head. " I—"

"Ah-ah! You want to reject my food?" She sat down beside me. "See, all this nonsense you're doing isn't good. You think your wife won't understand? Pride destroys a man more than hunger."

As she spoke, tears welled up in my eyes. Three months of pretending had worn me out.

"Young man," she said, placing a hand on my shoulder, "sometimes life hits us hard. But you’re not alone. Go home and tell your wife everything. She will understand."

That evening, when I told my wife what had happened, she just hugged me tightly. No words, just a hug. And for the first time since losing my job, I felt like everything would be okay.

The next morning, as I walked past Mrs Daniels' shop, she just smiled. She already knew I had taken her advice.

"Come and get your breakfast so you can go job hunting. Today might just be your lucky day."