Grandpa sat at the worn-out wooden table in the heart of the bustling restaurant, surrounded by the clinking of dishes and the hum of conversation.

His weathered hands traced the rim of his coffee cup, a distant look in his faded blue eyes.

The vibrant chatter of the restaurant faded into the background as a heavy silence settled over his shoulders.

Suddenly, a deep and mournful sigh escaped his trembling lips, drawing the attention of nearby diners. The realization of his vulnerability seemed to catch him by surprise, as if he hadn’t intended to expose the raw emotion that now glistened in his eyes. A quiver ran through his frail frame as he struggled to contain the rising tide of sorrow within him.

The waitress, a kind soul with graying hair and a warm smile, approached Grandpa cautiously, sensing that something profound had disrupted the tranquility of his evening. She placed a gentle hand on his shoulder and whispered, «Is everything alright, sir?» Grandpa’s voice cracked as he began to speak, the weight of decades’ worth of memories and experiences bearing down on him. «It’s… it’s her favorite song,» he stammered, his words barely audible over the ambient noise of the restaurant. The haunting melody of a familiar tune floated through the air, emanating from an old jukebox in the corner. The lyrics, laden with sentimental meaning, seemed to have triggered an avalanche of memories within Grandpa’s heart. He lowered his head, shielding his face with weathered hands as silent tears streamed down his cheeks.