Officer Ramirez and his team had just settled into their booth at the diner when their plates arrived, the comforting aroma of hot coffee and grilled burgers filling the air. Their shoulders sagged with exhaustion—another long shift, another day of calls that blurred into one another.Then she appeared.A little girl, no older than seven, in a light blue outfit and tiny sneakers. She hesitated for just a moment, then stepped forward, her eyes wide with quiet determination,
“Can I pray for you?” she asked.The officers exchanged glances. People usually stared, avoided them, maybe even judged them. But this? This was different.Ramirez was the first to nod. “Of course, sweetheart.”The girl clasped her hands together, bowed her head, and began to whisper. Her voice was soft, but her words carried weight. She thanked God for their safety, for their families, and for their return home at the end of each shift.Something tightened in Ramirez’s chest. Across the table, his fellow officers sat still, heads bowed, hands covering their faces.