He walked over.
“I was hoping you’d still be here,” he said.
“You look… different,” I managed to say.
He chuckled.
“Yeah. Life took a turn.”
“What happened?”
“I got a construction job,” he said. “A guy needed extra hands on a site. Started small, worked hard, and eventually saved enough to rent a room.”
He gestured toward the cooler.
“Now every Sunday, I make sandwiches and bring them out here.”
“Why?”
He looked at me for a long moment.
Then he said quietly,
“Because one night someone gave me a meal when I had nothing.”
My throat tightened.
“You taught me something,” he continued.
“That one meal can change everything.”
Behind me, Mr. Lang stood completely silent.
For once, the man who always had something to say… said nothing at all.
Meanwhile, the line of people waiting for sandwiches kept growing.
And the man who once sat quietly on the sidewalk kept handing out food—one meal at a time.
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