The Kindness You Leave Behind

Forced to move out when my rented flat was sold, I left it spotless. The next day, my landlady thanked me, surprised I wasn’t bitter despite past issues like a broken boiler and leaky ceiling. Her words, “You’re rare,” lingered as I struggled in a dim, costly new flat, jobless and post-breakup. At a café, I landed a barista job and met Mr. Harrington, a regular who shared his memoir. My encouragement led to its publication, with him crediting me. I also stopped a laundromat break-in, earning gratitude from its owner, Nia. Months later, my

landlady offered me my old flat back at the same rent—a lifeline. Nia left me pastries and a gift card, reinforcing my sense of community. Promoted to assistant manager, I started writing workshops. A teen’s note thanking me for seeing her echoed my landlady’s sentiment. Small acts—cleaning the flat, returning an umbrella, shouting at a thief—built belonging. Kindness, I learned, plants seeds that bloom, circling back when you need it most.