The sun had barely begun to rise when Trudia arrived at the toll booth, the cold November air biting at her cheeks as she shuffled inside and settled into the small space she’d come to know so well. This was one of the last non-automated toll booths in the entire country. Once a common sight, now a relic like her, hanging on in a world that seemed, in her eyes at least, to be moving just a little too fast. Trudia didn’t mind, though. The routine was familiar, comforting in a way, despite everything that had happened.

You see the previous day, a day usually associated with joy and happier times, she had learned her fate. The nice people on the phone explained that she had fallen for what they called, a cybercrime. One that made her lose her life savings. Everything that she and North had diligently worked so hard to put away—gone in the blink of an eye.

This was tough on her, exacerbated by the fact that her husband North could no longer work due to his failing health. Hence, it was up to her to keep things afloat. And so here she was, the day after Thanksgiving, needing to work, smiling through the pain, with her grief tucked away in the corners of her heart. But today was a new day. Ever the optimist, she tried to forget yesterday’s dire news as the first car rolled up.

It was a dark SUV with a husband, wife, and their two children in the back. The routine was familiar—take the money, process the transaction, raise the gate. “Good morning!” Trudia greeted them warmly, pushing aside her worries. The husband, Carlos, smiled and handed her the $5 for the toll.

Trudia took the bill. But something was wrong. The register wouldn’t open.

Trudia’s heart sank as she stared at the new system. She had never been good with modern stuff. And today of all days she had forgotten her glasses, bluring the world and with it the tiny words on the system troubleshooting guide. If only it could blur her anguish, she thought absentmindedly. She fiddled with the buttons, trying to remember what the training manual had said, but nothing worked.

“Sorry about this,” she said, glancing at the family. “It’s these new machines. And I forgot my glasses. Please give me a minute.”

“No rush,” Carlos said, leaning out of the window. “Take your time. We’re in no hurry.”

His wife, Maria, smiled reassuringly. In the backseat, their preteen kids, Pen and Nathan, chatted among themselves. As Trudia squinted at the screen, trying to figure out how to get the register to cooperate, Nathan, the eight-year-old boy, pulled out a piece of paper and some markers.

After a while a few cars started to build up behind them, and Maria asked, concerned, “You doing okay in there?” noticing the frown on Trudia’s face.

“Honestly,” Trudia said with a weak laugh, “I’m having a bit of a morning. This new machine just doesn’t agree with me. And you know, this job probably won’t be here much longer with all this ‘Sunny Pass’ stuff.” She shook her head. “I mean, SunPass.”

Carlos, feeling the tension in her voice, said gently, “We’re so sorry to hear that. Is there anyway I can help?”

Trudia hesitated but found herself opening up. “Not really. Well, it’s not just the machine. We, my husband and I recently had a... situation. We lost our life savings recently due to an online thing. A scam. Others did too we were told. It’s just been a bit day”

“Oh no,” Maria gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. “That’s awful!”

While his parents continued to chat with and console the toll booth attendant, Nathan leaned over to his older sister and whispered something. Soon, the two were quietly working on something together.

A few more cars got into the line, and Trudia sighed, clearly having no luck. Nathan, now finished with his drawing, handed it to Pen, who started scribbling on it meticulously.

“Pen!” Maria said, a touch of surprise clear in her voice, was about to admonish her daughter for “ruining” Nathan’s drawing. But Pen just smiled at her mom and said “I’m doing my homework.”Pen then snapped a photo of the picture with her cellphone. Maria was about to open her mouth to speak, but stopped when she noticed Nathan’s grin. Out of the corner of her eye she also observed Carlos was smiling.

Pen, who was closer to the booth than Nathan, handed the picture with her scribbles to Trudia, which she took with a grateful smile. Though her vision was blurry without her glasses, she could make out the vibrant colors and the figure of a woman lifting the toll gate, cape flowing behind her.

“Oh my goodness,” Trudia whispered, tears prickling her eyes. “This is beautiful. I’ll hang this right here for everyone to see.”

This put a wide grin on Carlos’s face. At that moment, seeing her struggle with the register, he had a thought. “Can I just pay with my card?” he said, reaching for his wallet. After Trudia, a bit embarrassed she had not considered it, confirmed the card would work, he added “Great! And you know what? I’m covering the toll for the car behind me too.”

Trudia blinked. “You’d do that? That’s so kind of you.

“Of course,” Carlos said, swiping his card. “Let’s keep the kindness going.” Carlos took the receipt and pen, filled it out, signed it and waited for the gate to open. As Trudia was taping the picture to the booth, clearly visible from the window, the gate opened and Carlos drove through.

After a few moments, the red Beetle next in line rolled up—a mom and her child. Trudia explained that their toll had already been paid. The woman smiled and, looking at Trudia’s window and the new addition now taped to it, said looking at Trudia, “That’s amazing! I would like to pay for the car behind me too.” Trudia could not help but grin. After Trudia explained that only credit was accepted at the moment, the woman handed over her card and repeated the same process Carlos had a moment earlier.

And so it went, one after another, each new driver decided to pay it forward for the next. The line grew longer, but no one seemed to mind. Everyone who passed through the booth that morning, Trudia was certain from people’s expressions, left with a little more joy in their heart than when they arrived. And everyone had loved the painting given by the children in the first car.

By the time the last car drove through and Trudia’s shift came to an end, she was nearly in tears from the beauty of it all. While it was a light travel day coming after a major holiday, everyone had paid it forward—every single car. She ended her day, grabbed her jacket, and printed the daily report, thankful that process had not become more complex as well. After jotting down that the toll had already been covered for the first car the next morning, she folded the picture Nathan and Pen had made and placed it carefully in her bag. Unbidden the memory of that first family entered her mind, and she considered how they had turned what could have been a stressful day into something wonderful.

In the parking lot, North was waiting in their old Buick, his smile warm and gentle. They drove home quietly, the weight of the day easing with every mile. After arriving home and enjoying a modest dinner together as they did every night, Trudia excitedly handed her husband the picture.

“These kids made this for me,” she said, smiling and chuckling, still amazed at the children’s gesture. Grabbing the toll report from her bag, she put on her glasses, finding them of course right where she left them—on the kitchen table. North did the same. After a few moments, they looked up at each other across the table, both wide eyed in their thick lens.

Trudia spoke first. “This can’t be right darling. It’s way too much.”

“Oh, is that right dear?” North responded playfully.

Trudia stared at him for a long beat, wondering what joke he was in on and she wasn’t. Almost as if reading her mind, he handed her back the picture. Now wearing her glasses, it made sense.

The drawing showed her, with a red Superman cape, standing in her booth—it even had her station number: 2. Her left hand was stretched out holding open a huge gate for a tiny car to drive through. But there was more.

Above the scene, in bold colors and capital letters was some text. It read as follows:

“My teacher asked me to find a real life hero and I told her they don’t exist. Well I was wrong. She works at the toll station. Number 2.”

The words continued, “Bad guys tricked her and now her family has no money. But she still came here to raise the gate for us. Please raise her up like she raises the gate for us. Don’t forget to tip. This makes you a hero. Just like my brother who drew this picture of her. He is my hero! (P.s. pls don’t tell him that). To say thank you for your kind heart. My dad has given money for your toll. Please thank the person behind you too.”