"You sure?"
He nodded.
Darius smiled. "Good."
The young waiter looked at him. "Do I know you?"
Darius laughed. "Probably not." Then he noticed the young man's nametag. "Jonah. Keep going, Jonah."
Jonah smiled. "Thanks."
Darius walked away. He didn't tell him the story. He didn't need to.
The following month, Darius returned to the community center where he had started his language program. The classroom was larger now; the program had expanded. There were computers along one wall, bookshelves filled with language textbooks, and a small conference room where volunteers helped students prepare for job interviews.
Darius had never intended for it to become an organization. It had simply started with a few students. Then more came. Then teachers volunteered. Then local businesses began offering internships. The first student from the program eventually became a hotel receptionist. Another became a translator. Another earned a scholarship to study abroad. Darius kept every thank-you letter.
One evening after the students left, he sat alone in the classroom. His mother called.
"How was class?"
"Good."
"Any new students?"
"Seven."
"Seven?"
"Yeah."
She laughed. "You're going to need another building."
Darius smiled. "Probably."
There was a pause. Then she asked, "Do you ever think about that restaurant?"
Darius looked around the classroom. "All the time."
"Why?"