I bought shawarma for a homeless man and his dog on a bitter winter evening. It seemed like a simple act of kindness at the time. But when he slipped me a note hinting at a past I’d completely forgotten, I knew this was no ordinary encounter.
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I worked at a sporting goods store in a mall downtown. After 17 years of marriage, two teenagers, and countless late shifts, I thought nothing could surprise me. But life is funny that way.
Woman in her late 30s working in a sporting goods store while wearing winter clothes | Source: Midjourney
That day had been particularly rough because holiday shoppers demanded refunds for items they’d clearly worn. Also, a register kept jamming, and my daughter, Amy, had texted me about failing another math test. We’d definitely had to think about hiring a tutor.
All these things were on my mind when my shift ended. Even worse, the temperature had dropped to bone-chilling levels. The thermometer outside the store showed 26.6°F.
The wind howled between buildings, whipping loose papers across the sidewalk as I walked outside. I pulled my coat tighter, dreaming of the warm bath I would set up at home.
On my way to the bus, I noticed a homeless man and his dog by a shawarma stand. He asked for hot water, but the vendor refused. Moved by my grandmother’s lesson on kindness, I bought food for the man. Later, he gave me a note, reminding me of a past act of kindness I’d long forgotten. It turned out, my small gesture had saved his life once before.
