She Fed a Lonely Boy Free Pancakes Every Morning — What He Left Behind Will Melt Your Heart (2 of 5)

No older than ten, thin as a rake, with hair that needed a cut and shoes that had seen better years. He sat in the corner booth, the one under the humming neon sign, and asked for a glass of water.

That’s all.

The next day, he came back. Same booth. Same water.

On day five, Katherine noticed he always had a book—creases in the pages, notes in the margins, like someone older had handed it down.

By the second week, she realized he never ordered food. Not once.

On day fifteen, she placed a plate of pancakes in front of him. “Oh,” she said with a half-smile, “the kitchen messed up again. Would be a shame to toss it.”

He didn’t say a word. But when she came back ten minutes later, the plate was spotless.

That became their quiet little routine. No names. No questions. Just pancakes and whispered “thank yous.”

Her coworker warned her, “You’re feeding a stray, Kat. They always leave eventually.”

Katherine just shrugged. “It’s fine. I used to be that hungry too.”

When the manager raised an eyebrow about the inventory, she offered to pay out of her tips. “I can manage,” she said simply.