Enza was closing up for the evening when she heard the bell above the door jingle. She glanced up from the counter, surprised. Most nights, especially now with the world in such chaos, people didn't come in this late. But tonight, there was a lone woman standing at the entrance, her expression a mix of exhaustion and desperation.

She was young, maybe in her early thirties, with sharp eyes that flicked around the room, scanning her surroundings as if she were constantly on guard. She wore plain clothes, nothing remarkable, but Enza could tell there was more to her than met the eye. The woman hesitated, clearly weighing whether or not to stay, before finally stepping further inside.

Enza wiped her hands on her apron and approached, her warm smile inviting. "Buonasera," she said. "You look like you could use a meal."

The woman blinked, taken aback by the straightforwardness. "I—uh, I don't have any money," she admitted, her voice soft but direct.

Enza's smile didn't falter. "Ah, well, we have a tradition in Italy. Caffè sospeso—a suspended coffee. It means someone pays for a coffee in advance for someone who can't afford one. Tonight, I'm offering something better than coffee—a whole meal, sospeso. No charge."

The woman's eyes widened slightly, but she still hesitated. "That's generous, but I really don't want to take advantage."

"Nonsense," Enza waved her off. "It's late, and you're clearly hungry. Come, sit. Let me get you something."

The woman hesitated a moment longer before nodding gratefully. "Thank you."

Enza led her to a small table near the window and went to the kitchen. It didn't take long to throw together a plate—pasta with fresh tomato sauce, some roasted vegetables, and a slice of bread. Simple, but hearty. She brought the plate out and set it in front of the woman, who smiled in quiet appreciation.

"You're not from around here, are you?" Enza asked, leaning against the counter after serving the food.

"No," the woman replied between bites, visibly relaxing now that food was in front of her. "I'm from Israel originally, but I've been… all over lately."

Enza raised an eyebrow. "All over? You sound like you've been in the middle of things."

The woman looked up, studying Enza's face carefully before deciding to answer. "Yeah, I suppose you could say that."

Enza recognized the guardedness, the caution in her tone. She'd seen it before, during the war, in people who were on the run or trying to stay out of sight. But she didn't press. People had their secrets, especially in times like these.

"Well, I'm glad you stopped by," Enza said with a gentle smile. "It's not often I get company this late."

The woman finished her meal, looking a bit more herself now, the exhaustion replaced by a renewed alertness. She wiped her mouth with the napkin and glanced at Enza. "I can't pay you, but I can work it off if you'd like. I'm not bad at doing dishes."

Enza let out a soft laugh, her eyes twinkling. "Oh, don't be ridiculous. It was a gift. But… if you really want to help, I could use a hand. The dishwasher's modern, but it still needs loading. Besides, it's been a while since I've had someone to talk to while I work."

The woman smiled, the tension in her face easing for the first time. "Deal."

The two women stood side by side in the small kitchen, washing and drying dishes in companionable silence. Enza handled the heavier pots and pans while the woman, who introduced herself as Naomi, carefully stacked the dishes. The rhythmic sounds of clinking plates and running water filled the kitchen, and for a moment, it felt almost normal. Almost like the world outside hadn't changed so drastically.

"You said you've been all over," Enza began, breaking the silence. "What's your story, Naomi?"

Naomi paused, thinking carefully about how to answer. "I'm part of… well, let's call it a resistance movement. We're trying to help people, especially now with everything happening. It's not easy, especially with the Mark of the Beast system being enforced. You can't buy or sell anything without it."

Enza nodded, her expression thoughtful. She'd heard the rumors, but so far, the system hadn't fully reached her corner of the world. Still, she knew it was only a matter of time.

"I'm trying to lay low," Naomi continued. "But we need food, supplies. We're finding ways around the system, but it's getting harder."

Enza placed a pot in the drying rack, wiping her hands on her apron. "So, you're part of this Tribulation Force I've been hearing about?"

Naomi's eyes widened slightly, surprised that Enza knew the name. "You've heard of us?"

"I've heard enough," Enza said with a small smile. "I've let a few of your friends use this place after hours for their prayer meetings."

Naomi nodded, her expression softening. "I figured you were sympathetic. Thank you for that. We need all the safe places we can get."

Enza shrugged. "People need a place to gather, to find hope. As long as you don't cause trouble, I'm happy to help. But…" She glanced at Naomi, her voice lowering slightly. "I'm no revolutionary. I've seen what happens when people rise up. It's bloody, and most of the time, it doesn't change anything."

Naomi met her gaze, her expression solemn. "I understand. It's not about rising up, though. It's about survival. And right now, we're doing whatever we can to keep people alive."

Enza nodded slowly, her mind turning over Naomi's words. She wasn't sure what to make of it all—this talk of the Antichrist, the Mark, the end of days. But there was something about Naomi, about the quiet determination in her voice, that reminded Enza of herself when she was younger. There was something familiar in the way Naomi talked about survival.

After a few more minutes of working side by side in silence, Naomi finally spoke again. "We could use your help, Nonna Enza."

Enza raised an eyebrow. "What kind of help?"

Naomi glanced around the kitchen, as if to make sure they were still alone. "Food. Supplies. We've got people in hiding, people who can't access anything without the Mark. You've got connections, and you know how to navigate these things. I can help you get set up with what you need—a way to stay connected with us. A cell phone, maybe."

Enza laughed, shaking her head. "A cell phone? Those are for rich people, no? I'm just an old lady with a restaurant."

Naomi smiled, amused by Enza's reaction. "Not anymore. We can cover it. And it would help you stay in touch, keep things discreet. You wouldn't need to be on the front lines. Just… help us stay fed."

Enza thought about it, her hands resting on the edge of the sink. The idea of getting involved in something this big, this dangerous, made her uneasy. She had lived through one war already—she wasn't sure she wanted to get tangled up in another, especially one that seemed even more impossible to win. But there was something in Naomi's eyes, something that spoke of hope and resistance, of the possibility of making a difference.

She sighed. "Are you one of those hackers, like in the movies?"

Naomi chuckled softly, shaking her head. "Not exactly. But… let's just say I know how to get things done online."

Enza's lips twitched into a small smile. "Well, if you are, don't tell me. Just don't get into too much trouble, neh?"

Naomi laughed, her expression lightening. "I'll do my best."

Enza wiped her hands on her apron and gave Naomi a long look. "Alright. I'll help you, but no promises if things get too dangerous. I'm just trying to survive, like everyone else."

"That's all we can ask for," Naomi said, her gratitude evident. "Thank you, Nonna Enza."

As they finished washing the last of the dishes, Enza couldn't help but wonder what she was getting herself into. But for now, it felt right. These people needed help, and if she could provide it, well… that was enough.

For now.