I Gave My Last $100 to a Shivering Old Woman in a Wheelchair – The Next Morning, She Was Waiting for Me in a Black Luxury Car

I saw it as survival.

And in that moment, something in me snapped. The kind of exhaustion that comes from realizing the deck is always stacked, even when you’re trying to do the right thing.

“You played dress-up with suffering,” I retorted. “You wore it like a costume.”

She frowned slightly.

“This world has grown selfish. I needed to know who still cared.”

She was quiet for a moment, then asked, “Are you refusing the job?”

And here’s what surprises even me to this day: I said yes.

I got out of the car, closed the door, and walked away.

Not because I didn’t need the money; I needed it more than air.

I didn’t want to wonder every time I helped someone if they were real or if I was being tested.

That’s not kindness anymore. That’s paranoia.

***

Two days passed.

I tried not to think about the woman.

My son asked if I was okay. I lied and said yes.

Inside was a letter.

“Dear friend,

Our conversation has stayed with me. I still believe in what I was trying to do, but I underestimated what $100 means to someone like you.

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