For several years, I worked at a small fast-food restaurant tucked away between a gas station and a laundromat. It wasn’t glamorous or exciting, but it was honest work — the kind that teaches you patience, humility, and the rhythm of ordinary life. Every day followed a familiar pattern: the sizzle of the fryer, the hum of conversation, and the endless coming and going of people rushing through their routines. The restaurant itself was small, with just enough room for a few tables and a narrow counter that separated the staff from the steady stream of customers. We didn’t have...
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