In the pocket of his coat.

A man sat in the same place in the park every morning.

On a bench by the lake, where the shadows of the trees moved slowly across the water.

He always brought something with him — a packet of biscuits, a cup of coffee, a cigarette.

He didn't talk to anyone. He just watched the world go by.

One day a little girl approached the bench.

She was wearing a red coat, too big for her, and one of the buttons was missing.

The man noticed her and said with a smile:

"It's a nice coat. But the button is missing, isn't it?"

The little girl shrugged.

"It fell off. It used to be my mother's. She said that as long as I wear it, it's as if she were with me."

The man thought for a moment.

He rummaged in his own coat pocket and took out a small, old button.

It was metal, scratched, but still shiny.

"My wife sewed this one on for me." I don't need it anymore.

– Can I sew it for you?

The little girl's eyes lit up.

She sat down next to him, and while the man took a needle and thread from his pocket, the two of them worked in silence.

All that could be heard was the soft rustling of the needle and the sound of the birds on the lake.

When it was finished, the man said:

– Now it's not just your mother's coat. It has a piece of me in it too.

The little girl smiled and hugged her.

Then he set off home, his coat complete again.

The man's pocket was empty.

But somehow that day his coat felt warmer than ever.

Lesson:

Not everything we give away is missed.

Sometimes love comes back in the form of a button — right where it was once missing.