Help is out there: a waitress’ story of hope and inspiration
I treat myself to the same restaurant for breakfast once or twice a month. There she is again, the same waitress with those same sad eyes. She knows my name, but I don’t know hers. Sometimes she has a bruise on her forehead or bruises up and down her arms, and I can see through her makeup.
My heart aches because even though I don’t know her, I know her. It’s …