David noticed her exhaustion before she spoke—the kind only young mothers know. A baby stirred softly in her arms, no older than four months. “Please, sit,” he offered gently. She hesitated, then lowered herself across from him, adjusting the blanket around her child.
“I’m David.”
“Christina. And this is Lily,” she replied, her voice edged with both pride and weariness.
David ordered pasta, bread, and tea. “You shouldn’t have to settle for scraps,” he said kindly. Tears welled in Christina’s eyes.
Between sips of water, she revealed her story: fleeing abuse, arriving in Portland with nothing, finding work at a diner until it abruptly closed. Now, with childcare costs high and shelters overcrowded, she was left adrift. “I have a job interview tomorrow… at a hotel downtown,” she added, rocking Lily.
David nodded, sensing her resilience. What she sought wasn’t charity—only a chance.
