Peter sat at the airport beside his son, Arnold, feeling the distance between them. Arnold, buried in his phone, barely spoke anymore. Their trip to Peter’s mother was a last attempt to reconnect.
While wandering the terminal, Arnold collided with a janitor’s cart, splashing water everywhere. Angry, he snapped cruelly at the older woman. But Peter, witnessing it, intervened sharply, apologizing to the janitor.
Recognition flickered between Peter and the woman. She was Alice—the same janitor who, years ago, had returned Peter’s lost bag with $4,800 inside, saving his struggling family.
Over coffee, Peter shared the story with Arnold, who listened, ashamed. Alice had seen them not as strangers, but as people deserving kindness.
When the boarding call came, Peter waved it off. They had gained something more important: understanding.
“Teach me to see people,” Arnold asked Alice.
“You already can,” she said. “You just have to choose it every day.”
