He’d been struggling with overwhelming grief and had wondered whether he wanted to keep living.
That ordinary breakfast, and knowing someone expected him the next morning, helped him begin reconnecting with life.
He kept coming back.
For twenty-eight years.
And every morning, he counted out the same $1.85.
***
What nobody knew was that the price of coffee and toast had increased many times since 1998.
But Ed never checked the menu.
He simply placed the same coins on the counter.
One dollar and eighty-five cents.
So I quietly paid the difference from my tips.
Year after year.
As prices increased, so did the amount I covered.
I estimated that I’d spent around eleven thousand dollars over the decades.
But I never minded.
To me, that $1.85 represented the morning Ed had decided to come back tomorrow.
I didn’t want to change it.
Standing beside me in the crowded diner, Ed reached into his suit jacket.
