I also looked out for Nia, who ran the nearby laundromat. After I stopped a break-in, she left me pastries and a note: “You watch out for people. So now we’ll watch out for you.” Soon after, my old landlady offered me my former flat again—same rent, no fees. I moved back, overwhelmed with gratitude.

An envelope from Nia waited at the door, with a grocery card and a note: “Some things come back to you.” I stayed, got promoted, and started writing workshops. A student once handed me a note: “I used to think nobody saw me. But I think you do.” Kindness isn’t loud. It’s in umbrellas, clean flats, small gestures. It leaves a trail—and if you follow it, it just might lead you home.