…He turned and looked up, expecting another executive. Instead, his eyes landed on me.

There was a flicker. Recognition? Maybe. Or just confusion.

I smiled politely. “Mr. Langford?” I said. “Right this way.”

He followed me into the conference room without a word. I could see the sweat on his brow, the slight tremble in his hand as he set his resume down.

“I appreciate the opportunity,” he said, voice low.

I nodded and sat across from him. “Let’s talk about your experience.”

He spoke in polished phrases, corporate buzzwords, numbers he hoped still impressed. But beneath the words was a man who’d lost things—maybe his job, maybe his pride. Maybe more.

When he finished, I closed the folder.

He looked at me, waiting.

And I asked, “Do you remember a boy standing outside a restaurant in the rain, holding a sign?”

His face changed. Slowly. Like a window catching light.

“I… I’m not sure…”

“I do,” I said. “Because that boy was me.”

Silence.

He blinked. Swallowed hard.

“I remember what you said. What you didn’t do.”

He opened his mouth, maybe to apologize.

But I held up a hand.

“I’m not here to humiliate you,” I said. “I’m here to offer you the job.”

His eyes widened. “Why?”

“Because I know what it’s like to need a second chance.”

And this time, I refused to look away.