Quiet Questions and Unwanted Comments
“Who’s that boy you keep serving?” asked Harold, a retired postman, one morning. “Never seen his parents.”
“I don’t know,” Jenny admitted softly. “But he’s hungry.”
Kathy, the cook, warned her. “You’re feeding a stray. You give too much, they don’t stick around. One day he’ll disappear.”
Jenny only shrugged. “That’s fine. I remember being hungry too.”
Jenny never asked his name. His careful way of sitting, his watchful eyes, told her questions might push him away. Instead, she made sure his glass stayed full and his food warm. Over time, his shoulders seemed less tense, and sometimes his eyes met hers for a second longer.
But others noticed. Some made cruel remarks:
“Playing charity worker on company time?”
“Kids these days expect handouts.”
“In my day, no one gave food for free.”
Jenny stayed quiet. She’d learned that defending kindness rarely changed bitter hearts.
