When my friend arrived, Thomas walked us to her car, waited until I was safely inside, and gave a small nod before turning away without expecting anything in return.
I assumed that was the end of it, because moments like that often are, brief intersections between strangers that fade back into memory.
The following night proved me wrong.
When I arrived for my next shift, I noticed Thomas sitting in the waiting area near the main entrance, perched awkwardly on a chair that was clearly not designed for someone his size.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, confused.
“Making sure you get back to your car safely,” he said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
“You do not need to do that,” I insisted.
“I know,” he replied.
That night, when my shift ended, he walked behind me at a respectful distance through the garage, stopped when I reached my car, and waited until I drove away.
He returned the next night. And the night after that. For nearly two weeks, Thomas showed up every evening I worked. He never asked for anything. He never crossed boundaries. He simply made sure I was not alone in that garage.