I didn’t make friends by trading favors. I made them by noticing who cared.
There was a tour office down the road that did things properly. I sent my guests there. Not because anyone asked—just because it felt right. One afternoon, the agent showed up with a small gift in his hand. We stood there a second longer than necessary. That was it. That was friendship.
A crepe café worked the same way. I sent people there. They sent people back. No tally. No deal. Just a street quietly rooting for itself.
That’s when it clicked.
I wasn’t just running a shop. I was part of a neighborhood learning how to hold together.