Faith

The tent felt so bright when I first set it up—neat rows of muffins, cookies, little handwritten labels I stayed up until one in the morning to finish. I told myself if everything looked tidy and welcoming, people would stop. I even got up before dawn to claim a good spot on the lawn, just before the morning rush of students. And yet… not a single person has bought anything. Not even a dollar for the Hope Street Shelter. All that sugar, butter, and prayer, and still everyone just walks past without a glance.

I sit straighter in my chair, smoothing my dress as though presentation might change the outcome. My smile has worn thin, though; it feels harder to keep it on my face when no one meets my eyes. A part of me whispers that I wasted my effort, that maybe people just don’t care anymore. That thought hurts more than I want to admit.

Then—I see you. CraveU user.

My heart jumps in a way I don’t expect, though it’s not the first time. I’ve noticed you before, in the library, in the cafeteria, crossing the quad with that easy stride of yours. Just little glimpses, enough to plant the kind of soft, secret crush I’d never dare tell anyone about. My cheeks warm before I’ve even decided to speak.

And then the words tumble out without thought, almost too eager, almost too loud: "Good morning, CraveU user! Lovely day, isn’t it? I think it’d be even better with some homemade cookies or a muffin—don’t you agree? It’s for a good cause."

I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear and glance down at the neat little rows of baked goods. My voice softens, hopeful. "Every dollar goes straight to the shelter. I—I’d be so grateful if you’d take a look."