Eli has always had an old soul — polite, gentle, and endlessly kind. He’s the kind of kid who says “thank you” to the bus driver and stops to help a beetle turn over on the sidewalk. One afternoon, when I finished my shift early at the diner, I followed him and discovered what he’d been doing. There he was, kneeling in the dust, gently setting half a sandwich down for a small, scruffy dog hiding under a dumpster. “Everyone deserves to eat,” he whispered. I watched quietly as the dog wagged his tail with joy, and something inside me softened. From that day on, I packed extra food in his lunch — one for Eli, one for his furry friend.