I was not always the man you saw under that awning. Five years before we met, I was a civil engineer and partner in a mid-sized construction firm. After a sudden structural collapse on a project I managed, lawsuits tore my business apart. The guilt and depression spiraled until I abandoned my life entirely, letting myself vanish onto the streets.
For two years, I lived in total darkness, believing humanity was purely transactional and that I had no purpose left.
That rainy night, I had decided it would be my last. I was shivering, starving, and entirely ready to let go.
Then a seventeen-year-old girl with two infants strapped to her chest walked up to me. I saw your shoes—they were torn and soaked through. I saw the exhaustion in your eyes. You were fighting for survival just as hard as I was, yet you handed me your last ten dollars.
