A Birthday Wish Come True
Barry turned eight today. I wanted to make it special, but with finances being tight, celebrating in a big way wasn’t an option.
Still, I managed to set aside enough for a simple dinner at a small diner—just burgers and fries. Barry didn’t complain. He never does.
When the waitress asked if we wanted dessert, I glanced at the menu, my heart sinking at the prices. Barry must have noticed because, before I could say anything, he shook his head with a small smile. “I’m full,” he said.
I knew he wasn’t.
Then, a voice from the next table spoke up. “Excuse me, ma’am.”
I looked up to see a man in a ranger’s uniform, his badge catching the light. His name tag read J.M. Timmons.
He smiled warmly. “Mind if I get the birthday boy some cake?”
I hesitated, torn between gratitude and pride. But before I could respond, Barry surprised both of us.
“No, thank you, sir,” he replied, polite but firm.
Timmons raised an eyebrow. “You sure, kid? It’s your birthday.”
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