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Marilyn Bishop always started her mornings the same way. At 7:00 sharp, she’d tie on her pink housecoat, feed her tabby cat, Scout, and make her way down to Walker’s Café on Main Street in Mount Airy, North Carolina. She’d been a regular there since her husband passed three years ago. The coffee wasn’t spectacular, but it was hot, and the corner booth by the window gave her something to look at while the town stirred awake.
This particular Tuesday started like all the others. The air was already warming, the sun casting gold over the tops of the brick buildings, and the same cashier with the chipped blue nail polish greeted her with a soft “morning.” Marilyn ordered her usual—black coffee and a biscuit with strawberry jam—and settled into her booth.
But as she stirred her coffee absentmindedly, something shifted. A young man walked in—twenty-something, she guessed—with a duffel bag slung over his shoulder and a tired look about him. He asked if the booth across from her was taken.
“Not unless you’re Scout,” she joked, motioning to her tote bag where a paperback novel stuck out.
He smiled—just a small one—and sat down. They didn’t talk right away. But over the course of a few sips, they began to. His name was Jeremy, and he was passing through, trying to make it to Asheville to see his sister. He didn’t have much, just stories and a smile that looked like it had seen better days.
They sat for nearly an hour, talking about music, family, and how some towns still felt like home even if you’d never been there before. When the check came, Marilyn paid for both of them without a word.
Jeremy looked at her, eyes a bit glossy. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“I know,” she said, “but I wanted to.”
He stood to leave, slinging his bag over one shoulder, and as he turned to go, he said something that stuck with her all day.
“Thanks, ma’am. You made today feel like it could go somewhere good.”
Marilyn sat there a moment longer, staring out the window at the morning traffic and the bakery truck pulling up across the street. She took another sip of her coffee, now lukewarm, and realized she was smiling.
That night, she fed Scout a little extra and laid out her clothes for the next day—a soft blue blouse she hadn’t worn in years. Just in case tomorrow turned out to be another good day.
