"It's okay."
"No, son."
"You need it more than I do."
Walter shook his head.
"You worked for that money."
Jake smiled.
"I'll earn more tomorrow."
The old man looked at him for a long moment.
"Why would you do that?"
Jake shrugged.
"My dad used to say that if you have enough to share, you have enough to help."
Walter's eyes became wet.
He quietly accepted the money.
"Your father sounds like a good man."
"He was."
Walter nodded.
"Then he raised a good son."
He walked out into the cold night.
Jake watched him disappear down the road.
He didn't know it yet, but that five-dollar bill would become the smallest part of a decision that changed his life.
Chapter 2 — The Tip Jar
The next evening, Walter came back.
Jake recognized him immediately.
"You again."
Walter smiled.
"I suppose I'm becoming a regular."
"You didn't have to come back."
"I know."
Walter ordered soup again.
This time, Jake brought him a sandwich too.
Walter frowned.
"I didn't order this."
"It's on the house."
"I can't accept free food every time I come here."
"Then consider it a bad business decision."
Walter laughed.
"You've got a smart mouth."
"My mother says the same thing."
They talked for nearly an hour.
Walter revealed that he had once worked as a carpenter.
He had built houses, repaired furniture, and spent forty years working with his hands.
"What happened?" Jake asked.
Walter looked down.
"Life."
That was all he said.
When he left, he put a dollar into the restaurant's tip jar.
Jake noticed.
"Mr. Walter, you don't need to tip me."
Walter smiled.
"I know."
The next night, he returned.
And the next.
Soon, Jake began looking forward to seeing him.
Walter never ordered anything expensive.
Usually soup.
Sometimes toast.
Once, he ordered a hamburger and apologized because it cost more.
Jake always told him the same thing.