“So,” Lauren echoed weakly.
Denise held out a hand toward the flower.
Lauren walked over and gave it to her.
Denise touched one white petal and smiled.
“That was not your landlord.”
“No.”
“That was something stranger.”
Lauren sat in the chair again.
Then, because there was no elegant way to explain any of it, she told the whole story from the top.
The corner-booth customer.
His daughter.
The six days missing.
The hug in the restaurant.
The business card.
The job.
The flower.
The socks.
The chicken lady.
By the end, Denise was crying quietly and trying not to show it.
Lauren was too tired to pretend she wasn’t.
“So,” Denise said again after a moment, wiping under one eye. “Kindness took the long way home.”
Lauren let out a breath.
“Maybe.”
Denise raised an eyebrow.
“Maybe?”
“I’m trying not to believe too fast.”
“That’s fair.”
