stillness of the room.
The story doesn’t end here — it continues on the next page.
Later, sitting in the car, I finally opened the envelope and found a check inside—far more than I ever could have imagined. The number stunned me, but what moved me more was the intent behind it. When I got home, my children gathered around as I told them the story, from the grocery store to the quiet goodbye.
We decided to honor him not by focusing on the money, but by remembering the moment that started it all: one person noticing another.
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