THE LAST HOPE
The back door was slightly ajar.
Santiago could smell basil and garlic. The scent of his childhood.
He knocked.
The door swung open. A young man in a white chef’s coat stood there. Benjamin Flynn.
Santiago tensed up. His hand instinctively gripped the hidden camera in his pocket.
Go on. Tell me to get lost. Do it.
“I’m sorry, sir,” Santiago began, bracing for the blow. “I’m not begging. I’ll pay. I just need to eat.”
Benjamin froze. He looked the old man up and down.
Time seemed to stop.
“What money, old timer?” Benjamin said softly.
Santiago’s blood ran cold. This is the end.
But then, the kid opened the door wider.
“Put your wallet away. It’s freezing out there. Come in, I’ll feed you.”
Santiago couldn’t believe his ears.
“But… your boss…”
“I don’t give a damn about the rules,” Benjamin chuckled. “No one goes hungry on my shift.”
