The next day, I baked cookies and dropped them off at the repair shop with his name on the box. A week later, he knocked on my door—this time without a toolbox—just to return the empty tin. Smiling shyly, he said, “No one’s done something like that for me in years.” That simple exchange turned into conversation, first about weather and food, then about loneliness, dreams, and burdens we had hidden for too long.
Days became weeks. What started with a leaky washer became daily texts, late-night coffee, and laughter in my kitchen. One evening, as the sun set, he turned to me and said softly: “Funny how life works. I thought I was fixing a machine that day… but I think I found something I didn’t even know I needed.”
