I want to tell you about Danny

Tuesday 21st April, 2026

My Dear Reader,

This week I am writing to you with a story from Austin, Texas, and I want to tell you about Danny.  Just a few days ago, I popped into a much-recommended pizza place on South Congress and sat alone at the high bar with a slice of pizza and a little space to think. As I ate, an Uber driver came in to collect an order, and I heard one of the team behind the counter say to his friends, “the 7th Uber driver of the day, and this guys says he will wait.” A small cheer arose from the open kitchen and then a few moments later, the same man called the driver over and asked if he would like a piece of pizza while he waited. The driver chose a slice, took a drink, and then came to sit beside me.

“Ma’am, do you mind if I sit here?” he asked.

“Of course not,” I replied. And so he took off his helmet and turned towards the window in silence. I smiled at him and asked him his name.

“Well, I’m Danny,” he said, with that slight surprise people have when they realise someone is genuinely interested in them. And so we began to talk. Danny was young, probably 25 years old, and he told me he was getting married this year and that he was about to become a father. He asked me what I do and why I was in Austin, and when I told him I was an author, he wanted to know more - not in the polite way we sometimes ask questions to strangers, but with real curiosity and attention. As I slowed he told me “I want to write a book and do what you do.”  And so I asked him "what would speak and write about if you did?"

Without hesitation, Danny replied that he would talk about his disability and how he had overcome it, to ride a motorbike. I couldn't see a disability and neither did I ask, but instead I told him that I thought people would be very inspired by his story. He told me it was a dream but he didn't think he could do it because he had to save money for his new family on the way.

We spoke a little longer about building something meaningful, and I shared that so much of what we admire in others is usually built in less glamorous ways, through patience, consistency and tenacity, long before anybody notices. And that I too never thought I would be sitting here, doing this, today. Eventually, the pizza he was there to collect was ready, and I stood to leave so that he could get back to his day. As I said goodbye, Danny stopped me. “I want to tell you one more thing Miss Mimi,” he said.  I turned back. “My name’s Danny,” he smiled, “and I’m going to write a book this year.”

"I have no doubt about it Danny" I replied as I left with my all American glass bottle Coca-Cola in hand.

I have thought about Danny multiple times since. He reminded me how quickly something can shift when a person feels heard, and how many more people around us may be carrying ideas, hopes and identities that have simply never been given enough space to breathe. We think change comes through grand opportunities, perfect plans, or some external breakthrough that finally gives us permission to begin, but in truth I think it often happens in far more human ways than that. It happens when somebody asks your name and waits for the answer. It happens when someone listens without rushing you. It happens when you say hello to a stranger and hang around long enough to really understand their reply.

So this week, I find myself wondering how many people around us are one real conversation away from realising what is still possible in their lives? And I wonder, too, how often you might be that conversation for someone else? Try saying hello to one new person a day this week, maybe even ask their name, and see what shifts for both of you. I have a feeling it will be great.

In empathy and until the next letter,

Mimi

P.S If this is your first letter, The Empathy Letters are personal, simple, candid letters that prompt a new idea, share a strangers story, or simply offer some refreshed empathy in your week. Never a newsletter, these letters - similar to a ‘penpal’ of old - are from me to you, and I would love your letter in reply, every now and then.