"$$30 worth of donuts, please, Miss."

I looked up, and my eyes met my costumer. He was obviously not from around here. I didn't know many people that could get their hair sticking up like that, nor had I ever seen a coat so red.

"Wow," he blinked, "you are the prettiest donut girl I've ever since."

Privately, I wondered if it was sarcasm or if he meant it sincerely.

I didn't reply, but quickly bagged his donuts and took his money. When I was reaching for his change, he grabbed my hand. My heart jumped and in puzzlement, I raised my eyes.

"You can keep the change," he told me and then added, "as a tip."

"$$20?" I asked, bewildered.

"Oops, did I give you a $$50?" He asked, checking his pockets. "Oh well, yeah, keep it."

After issuing one last smile, he departed with a slight spring in his step. "Donuts!" He exclaimed.

"Do you eat anything besides donuts?" A priest asked him. He had dark hair and was sitting at a table directly in front of my donut booth.

The red-coated man grabbed one of the priest's sandwiches and popped it in his mouth, and then seated himself across from him.

"Hey Needle Noggin', you're paying for that," the priest said, pointing to the red-coated man's mouth.

He swallowed, and enthusiastically opened the bag I had given him.

"Oh wow! Can I have some Mr. Vash?" A large brown-haired girl next to the priest asked.

The red-coated man said something I couldn't hear, and then all three of them, and a violet-haired woman sitting next to them, looked up at me.

I suddenly became aware I was staring, and turned away, pocketing the $$20. It must be nice to have so much money that you couldn't tell the difference between bills.

Quickly, I busied myself, making more dough, wondering if they were still staring at me.

"These are delicious!" I heard Mr. Vash exclaim.

During my shift, I chanced glances at the mysterious strangers, until they had left- the violet-haired woman looking completely annoyed.

….

Several times during the week, Mr. Vash bought donuts from me, always leaving at least a small tip.

"Keep the change," he would tell me.

I watched him and had taken an interest; never had I received such a devoted costumer, and one so peculiar.

On most occasions, he was accompanied by one of the three other people I had seen. On Wednesday I watched the violet-haired woman chew him out. When he reached my counter, he rolled his eyes as the woman muttered something about "moral fiber" and on Thursday it was the priest trying to provoke Mr. Vash to comment on a deep discussion. But on Saturday, he came alone.

"I could use some donuts, please," he said.

His smile looked painful, because it was forced and didn't hide the fact he seemed thoroughly saddened.

And then after I had handed him his bag came the "keep the change."

"But Mr. Vash- sir, it's $$50," I cried.

Appearing slightly startled I knew his name, he answered, "surely you could use some extra money, even a donut girl such as yourself- who makes delicious donuts- could use it more than I could."

"Thank you," I answered astounded.

He sulked away and sat down at his usual seat, and began devouring the donuts with sudden vigor.

I couldn't deny it, the money given to me from this one Mr. Vash, had helped me a lot. Ever since my mother had fallen ill, I had taken up her donut career, and was trying to find the money to take her to a doctor and to pay for my two little brothers' stomachs. On top of that, I hadn't been to school for weeks, and pondered if I would ever return.

Everything had felt hopeless until Mr. Vash had started handing over his money. Some days I felt I couldn't take it, but he would insist- pointing out that the most considerate action to take was to accept it humbly.

Compared to Mr. Vash, all my other costumers exchanged money for donuts in almost silence. They muttered something under their breath as they left, and those that did talk, like Mrs. Keish, would go on to express her feeling towards the newest gossip and the nastiness of the latest news. I listened to them, keeping a mental note that I probably couldn't believe half of what I was hearing.

After a few more occasions of Mr. Vash buying donuts, I realized something unusual. He was always happy…or at least he tried desperately. Very few people, compared to Mr. Vash, seemed to care to smile when I handed them their bag of donuts, or to express such gratitude. And then here was Mr. Vash exercising all possible to keep smiling. His euphoria began to rub off on me, and I looked forward to seeing him with every purchase.

I began to exchange his ecstasy. I smiled at my costumers, and asked them questions. Some grasped the moment, and others disappeared into town with the same mournful look glued to their faces.

Whenever I saw Mr. Vash coming, I tried to suppress my smile, but let it break through as he pranced away with a bag of donuts in his hands.

….

"And then Mrs. Johnson, she says she's moving, but, oh, it's not because her husband is retiring…I've heard there are other more personal reasons, but if you ask me," Mrs. Keish leaned closer to me, but I hardly paid attention to it. "They're going to get divorced. They're going away for that, just like the Lanners did."

"Here are your donuts, Mrs. Keish." I interrupted.

She took the bag, and continued babbling about the Lanners, who I thought had been quite a fine family, but apparently their son had been getting into trouble ever since he was three and the daughter had drowned their cat in the toilet.

Mrs. Keish's gossip was strangled from my hearing when I saw the spiky-haired man dashing madly for my donut booth.

The shorter woman looked astounded at Mr. Vash's actions.

"How can you think of donuts in a time like this?" She bellowed.

But Mr. Vash was closing in, and now the priest had taken the authority of chasing him down.

"Excuse me, Mrs. Keish," I said as Mr. Vash reached me, breathless and urgent.

"I really need a donut," he said, eyes livid and body full of adrenaline.

"Hurry Mr. Vash!" I heard the larger woman call.

"Hey, Spiky!" the priest growled, grabbing Mr. Vash's red coat. "What the heck are you doing? You've got to get out of here!"

Something was going on, and it sounded very serious.

"I need a donut!" Mr. Vash hollered.

"Spiky-!" The Priest glared, and when Mr. Vash didn't budge, added. "Then make it quick!"

In five seconds flat I handed him a donut.

"Here," he said hastily, and thrust $$50 into my hand. "And keep the change."

"Spiky!"

"But donut girl…keep helping your family even though-"

"How did you-?" I was interrupted.

"Needle Noggin', how long do you want your life to be?" The priest asked, and with one last forceful tug, Mr. Vash's back was turned to me.

I watched him run towards the other girls, who were looking frantic.

What was that all about? I wondered. Would he be okay?

"Who was that?" Mrs. Keish asked.

I felt her gaze on me.

"I don't know," I answered, to avoid becoming part of her flying gossip.

"Uh-huh," she said, unconvinced, and I could tell gossip was already brewing inside her mind.

After a sly smile, Mrs. Keish departed and I began to make more donuts.

….

My house was a tattered building, but my home was priceless. When I entered it that evening, my brothers sprung on me in excitement.

"Emily, they say mom's probably going to be good!" Jacob said, his brown eyes sparkling.

"Who says?" I asked.

"The doctors! They said she has monoimiama!" Jaxon explained.

"Pneumonia!" Jacob corrected.

"She's at the doctors?" I asked.

"Yeah, didn't you hear?" Jaxon asked.

"That man named Vash-"

"With the crazy hair!" Jaxon stuck his hands on top of his head.

"He took her to the hospital to be tookin' care of by one of those really good doctors."

"Those ones with the crazy hand writing!"

"Not all of them have crazy hand writing."

"Most of them do!"

"Nuh-uh!"

"Yeah!"

To prevent further arguing, I grabbed Jacob's shoulders and looked into his freckled face.

"The man in the red coat took mom to the hospital? But we can't afford- did he pay the doctor!" I asked.

"Oh yeah! A lot of money!"

"Don't forget the priest!" Jaxon inserted.

"Yeah! And the priest worked some magic! But mom will get better if the doctors keep a watch and she stays in bed and she gets proper medicine."

"And then they played ball with us."

"You played ball with strangers?" I asked, astonished.

"They said they knew you," Jacob justified.

"Well, don't let it happen again," I sighed.

Moments after I had finally succeeded in settling them down, I pondered more on Mr. Vash.

He had always given me extra money without hesitation…how long had he known of my family's despair, and how did he find out? Why was some tourist doing this for me when my fellow citizens were doing nothing?

The next day I searched for him more than ever, but he didn't return, not that day, and not the days after. Weeks passed, and even when I had bravely snuck back into school and my mother had returned to her donut business, I kept a look-out.

Was he okay? What had happened since his last visit?

He had given my family life again, and put hope back into our eyes. With a simple smile, and a gracious heart, I was living again. I had a future, and so did my mother. How could I ever repay him? It sounded impossible. And still I pondered if he would ever know what it meant to me. The gracious heart inside of this man re-introduced love into life and restored hope to a young teenage "donut girl"; good is still present in the world- it will never be gone as long as we are willing to see it, and hope will never be lost as long as we believe in the good that surrounds us.

If I ever run into him again, I will try to repay him, but for now, I would just have to accept it humbly.

Author's note:

Thank you for reading! Please critique, I am always looking for ways to improve my writing, and am always interested in how readers think and feel about my stories.