She had been feeding strangers every night for fifteen years — until one night, a black SUV stopped in front of her and made her cry.

Margaret looked up, tears tracing furrows in the rain. « Did you girls do this? »

Lila nodded. « We all made it. June runs a shelter in Portland. Erin is a social worker in Chicago. And me… well, I guess I’m a lawyer now. »

Margaret let out a laugh tinged with sobs. « Lawyer. Well, I never. »

They sat down together on the wet bench, forgetting about the umbrella. For a moment, the park seemed to come alive again — laughter mingled with the whisper of the rain, memories rippled in the air.

When Lila left, the SUV vanished silently into the grey, leaving behind only the shell and the smell of sodden earth.

Margaret stayed a little longer, her hand resting on the still-warm dish.

That evening, for the first time in fifteen years, she did not bring a meal to the park.

But the next morning, the bench was not empty.

Someone had placed a single white rose on the seat — and, beneath it, a note written in elegant cursive script.