It was nearly midnight when Henry ducked into the small, all-night diner on the corner. Rain pattered against the glass. Neon signs hummed faintly. He ordered coffee and slid into a booth, hoping to drown out the noise from his life.
Across from him, without asking, an older man slid into the seat. His coat was shabby, his eyes sharp but kind.
“Rough night?” the man asked, nodding toward Henry’s untouched coffee.
He frowned. “Do I know you?”
“No,” the man said with a small smile. “But sometimes it’s easier to talk to strangers. No history. No judgment.”
He hesitated. “Maybe.”
The man tapped the table. “So, what’s weighing you down?”
He exhaled. “Everything, I guess. I quit my job today. Everyone thinks I’m insane. It was stable, good pay, benefits… but I hated it. Every morning felt like dragging my soul through mud.”
“And now?”
“Now I’m terrified. What if I made a mistake? What if I never figure it out?”
The man leaned back. “Let me tell you something. I once walked out of a courtroom—mid-trial, mid-career. I was a lawyer. Everyone thought I’d lost it. But I knew if I stayed, I’d lose myself. It took years, but I found something better. Teaching kids chess, of all things. Never made as much money, but I’ve never been freer.”
“You just… walked away?”
“Sometimes, you don’t wait for permission to live your life. You take it.”
Silence hung between them, broken only by the clink of a spoon.
“You make it sound simple.”
“It isn’t. But regret is heavier than fear.”
The man slid out of the booth, dropped some coins on the counter, and tipped his hat. “Good luck, kid.”
Henry opened his mouth to ask for his name, but the stranger was already gone, swallowed by the rain.
He stared into his coffee, heart lighter than it had been in months.
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