He set his fork down carefully.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
“Lily,” she replied, her voice barely audible.
“Are you alone, Lily?”
She hesitated — just long enough to reveal more than words ever could.
“My mom… she works late. Sometimes all night.”
He nodded slowly.
“Are you hungry?”
Lily’s lips pressed together, and she shook her head — but her eyes betrayed her. Hunger lived there like a shadow.
“Sit down,” he said gently, pulling out the chair across from him.
The maître d’ blinked in horror. “Sir—”
“It’s fine,” the man repeated firmly. “Bring another plate. And some water.”
Lily slid into the seat cautiously, as if afraid she might be asked to leave at any second. Her feet dangled off the chair, swinging nervously. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, then immediately reached for her pink backpack again, holding it on her lap protectively.
The man watched her for a moment before speaking.
“I’m David.”
She nodded. “Thank you, Mr. David.”
Be First to Comment