For eight days, Margaret visited Daniel after every shift. I visited whenever the coffee stand closed. His grandfather told us that doctors were encouraged by his progress, although recovery would take time. On the ninth morning, Margaret arrived carrying a small vanilla latte. She placed it beside Daniel’s bed and whispered, “Your coffee is waiting.” Suddenly, his fingers moved. Margaret leaned forward, calling his name. His eyelids slowly opened. He looked confused, then recognized her. His first whispered words were almost inaudible. “Did you get your coffee?” Margaret burst into tears.

“Yes, sweetheart,” she answered, holding his hand. “But I think you owe me one conversation.” Daniel smiled weakly. His recovery took several months, but he eventually learned to walk again. Every day brought another small victory. And when spring finally arrived, he asked his grandfather to drive him somewhere special: the little coffee stand.