wrapped in wax paper.

His smile was warm.

Genuine.

Kind.

I sat down immediately.

“Thank you,” I said.

“No problem,” he replied. “First day?”

“Is it that obvious?”

He chuckled.

“Only because I remember mine.”

That was how I met Charles Wilson.

The company’s janitor.

And the beginning of a friendship that would quietly change my life.

Eleven Years of Lunches

As the continue reading …