My name is Corinne. I’m 37, living in a small mountain town that feels worn but familiar. I work long shifts at Millie’s Diner — a place with chipped coffee cups, a creaky jukebox, and regulars who always order the same thing. It’s not glamorous, but it’s home. I’ve raised my son, Theo, alone since his father walked away when Theo was three. Now Theo is 10, thoughtful and gentle in a way that feels older than his years.
He’s the kind of kid who thanks the bus driver, waves at the garbage truck, and stops to help an insect flip itself over. That’s just who he is — quiet kindness wrapped in a little boy’s body.
