Every morning at 6:15, an old man walked into the same small café.
He always ordered the cheapest thing on the menu: a cup of hot water and a slice of bread.

And every morning, he paid in coins.

Not neat coins.
Not counted.
Just a small shaking pile poured from his pocket onto the counter.

People behind him often sighed.
Some rolled their eyes.
The barista never did.

One freezing morning, the old man didn’t come.

Then the next day.
Then the next.

On the fourth day, the café owner found a small envelope taped to the door.

Inside was a letter.

It read:

“Thank you for never making me feel poor.
I came here because my wife used to love your coffee.
After she died, I couldn’t afford much — but sitting here made me feel like I still had a life.
Please use the money inside to give free coffee to anyone who looks like they need it.”

There was $2,000 in the envelope.

From that day on, the café kept a small sign by the register:

“Suspended Coffee — Paid For By A Friend.”

Nobody ever knew the old man’s name.

But every day, someone drinks a warm cup of kindness because of him.