For nearly 15 years, I’ve worked the night shift at Ed’s Truck Stop where truckers, loners, and the occasional troublemaker pass through. One rainy night, an older man walked in, maybe in his sixties. He looked worn but calm, ordered a slice of apple pie and a glass of milk, and sat alone by the window.
The quiet didn’t last. Three loud bikers barged in, full of noise and ego. They mocked the old man, ruined his pie, and spat in his milk, laughing like it was the funniest thing in the world. The man said nothing. No anger, no words. He simply stood, paid his bill, and walked out into the storm.Then came the twist.
