I Paid for a Poor Mans Groceries – and Noticed He Was a Carbon Copy of My Late Husband!

I found Charles a few blocks from the store, getting off a bus. I followed from a distance, torn between shame and need. He lived in a small, worn house behind a chain-link fence. After sitting in my car for too long, I knocked.

He recognized me immediately. When I blurted out that he looked exactly like my husband and showed him Edward’s photograph, his face drained of color.

“I think you should come inside,” he said.

The house was modest but tidy. Children’s drawings covered the fridge. Toys lined the hallway. He sent the kids to their room and sat across from me, staring at Edward’s photograph as though it might burn him.

“This man,” he said slowly, “ruined my mother’s life.”

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