After a long day working at the shop, with grease still on my hands and exhaustion in my bones, all I wanted was to grab a pizza and head home. I pulled into the lot at Salerno’s, already thinking about that first bite. But before I could even step out of my car, I noticed an elderly man struggling near the curb. He leaned heavily on a cane, trying to get onto the sidewalk as others walked past without noticing.
I rolled down my window and asked, “Need a hand?”
He looked surprised, then smiled and nodded. I parked, walked over, and offered my arm. He held on tightly, and we walked into the restaurant together, slowly but surely. His large orthopedic shoes reminded me of my father’s—sturdy, worn down, familiar. In that moment, I saw more than a stranger; I saw someone who reminded me of home.
Inside, the hostess greeted him warmly. “Hey, Mr. Benning. Usual table?”
He smiled and said, “Not alone today,” then turned to me. “You hungry, son?”
I hadn’t planned to dine in, but something in his voice made it feel right. We sat in a cozy booth, surrounded by the inviting scent of garlic and fresh herbs. Without asking, he ordered two margherita pizzas.
Once the food arrived, he looked at me and said, “You’re probably wondering why I invited you.”
“Yeah,” I admitted, “but thanks for the meal.”
He smiled gently. “Ever heard of ‘pay it forward’?”
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