The next Sunday, I went to work with a different feeling in my heart. Would he come back now that his identity was uncovered? As the hours passed, I served pancakes, refilled coffee mugs, but there was no sign of him.

Just as I was about to give up hope, the door chimed, and there he was—my grandfather, looking just as he always did but with a vulnerability I hadn’t noticed before.

I walked over, trying to keep my emotions in check. “Can we talk?” I asked, motioning to the empty booth across from him.