I was wiping trays when I noticed a man outside—tired eyes, worn flannel, a plastic bag over his shoulder. After hesitating, he stepped in, carrying the cold with him. Before I could greet him, my 12-year-old son Nevan beat me to it.

The man asked quietly, “What can I get for 50 cents?”

Nevan called out, “You hungry?” Then, without a pause, handed me his wrinkled $5 allowance. “Can he get a meal with this?”

The man hesitated. “That’s too much.”

Nevan shrugged. “I was gonna buy something in a game. But I think you need this more.”

He didn’t wait for thanks. Just sat back down.

Later, the man quietly showed me a photo of his son. “Your boy reminded me of him,” he said with teary eyes.

The next day, Nevan helped me make a care package. That Friday, we saw the man again—Nevan handed it to him. Paige, a friend, recognized him and offered help connecting him to a warehouse job in Kansas City.

Weeks later, Paige returned with news: he got the job.

Nevan just smiled. “It was just five bucks.”

But it wasn’t. It was hope. And a reminder—kindness can change everything.