It was 3:30 in the morning when the first knock came. David stirred, squinting at the glowing clock before turning over with a groan. He had work in a few hours and no desire to face the cold night air.
“Who knocks at this hour?” he muttered, pulling the blanket higher. Silence followed, and he hoped it would end there.
Then came a second knock—louder, deliberate, impossible to ignore.
His wife shifted beside him. “Aren’t you going to answer that?” she asked sleepily. With a sigh, David swung his legs out of bed and headed downstairs. The house felt unnaturally still, each step creaking as he wondered who could be standing outside.
At the door, he peered into the darkness before opening it. A young man stood there, shivering in a thin jacket, a small flashlight in his hand.
“I’m sorry,” the stranger said quickly. “My car broke down nearby, and my phone died.”
David’s irritation faded. He invited the man inside, made tea, and called for help.
When the tow truck finally arrived, the young man thanked him again and again. David returned to bed feeling oddly calm. Sometimes, even an unwelcome knock can become a quiet reminder of kindness.
