She turned, startled.
I ran to her, breathless, holding out the watch. “Where did you get this?”
Her eyes filled with tears instantly.
“I was hoping it was you,” she said softly.
My chest tightened. “You… you know me?”
She nodded and pulled out her phone with shaky hands. “I’ve been waiting.”
She scrolled through notes—dozens of them. Dates. Times. Observations.
Every Saturday.
Every single Saturday for months, she had been coming to this store.
Watching.
Waiting.
“For you,” she whispered. “Mom told me where you might be. She said you come here sometimes. I didn’t know how to talk to you.”
I stared at her, my mind racing.
“The four dollars…” I said slowly.
She gave a small, sad smile. “It wasn’t an accident.”
My throat tightened.
“I didn’t know what to say,” she admitted. “But Mom said… she said maybe an angel would help us. And if you helped me…” Her voice broke. “Then I’d know it was really you.”
Tears blurred my vision.
“What’s your name?” I asked.
She hesitated, then said, “Lily.”
My heart skipped.
My mother had always loved that name.
