And that’s when I called you.”

“I’ve run this diner thirty years,” Sal went on.

“I have hired more teenagers than I can count.

Most of them, I’ll be honest with you, complain after twenty minutes of wiping down tables, and quit the day after their first paycheck clears.

I’ve come to expect it.

But this boy.” He shook his head slowly.

“This boy showed up every Saturday and worked until his hands cracked and bled, and never once complained, and never missed a single shift, and never spent one nickel of what he earned on himself.

Not a candy bar.