Homeless Man Asked Me to Buy Him Coffee on His Birthday — Hours Later, He Sat Next to Me in First Class

Jimmy was stunned when the homeless man he’d bought coffee for earlier boarded the plane and sat beside him in first class. Who was he and why was he asking for money in the first place?

I’d never thought much about destiny until I met Kathy.

Three months ago, she walked into my life, and within weeks, she became my world. People called me crazy for proposing after just a month, but I couldn’t ignore the way everything fell into place with her.

A woman sitting in her living room | Source: Midjourney

A woman sitting in her living room | Source: Midjourney

We shared the same outlook on life, the same love for skiing, and even a mutual obsession with science fiction novels. It felt like the universe was nudging me, whispering, she’s the one.

Now, here I was, flying out to meet her parents for the first time.

Kathy warned me about her dad, David. She called him a stern man who didn’t give his approval easily. But she also insisted he had a good heart and loved her more than anything.

A woman sitting with her phone in her hand | Source: Midjourney

A woman sitting with her phone in her hand | Source: Midjourney

To be honest, I was scared. I knew I just had one shot to prove I was worthy of his daughter, and I didn’t want to mess it up.

I’d arrived at the airport too early, nerves pushing me to leave home long before I needed to. To kill time, I ducked into a cozy little coffee shop across the street.

The hum of conversations and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee were a welcome distraction from the thoughts swirling in my head.

That’s when I noticed him.

A man sitting in a coffee shop | Source: Midjourney

A man sitting in a coffee shop | Source: Midjourney

The man shuffled in, wearing tattered clothes. His face had wrinkles that showed he had worked hard all his life. His shoulders were slightly hunched, and his eyes, though tired, darted around the room like he was searching for something.

I watched as he approached a few tables, speaking softly to the people seated there.

People in a coffee shop | Source: Midjourney

People in a coffee shop | Source: Midjourney

Most people shook their heads, avoided eye contact, or offered an awkward apology. Then, he stopped in front of my table.

“Excuse me,” he said politely. “Could you spare some change? Just enough for a coffee.”

I hesitated. My first instinct was to decline. Not because I didn’t care, but because I wasn’t sure how much to trust him. You know, some people are genuine while others are just looking for handouts.

But something about him felt different. He wasn’t pushy, and he looked embarrassed to be asking.

A close-up shot of an older man | Source: Midjourney

A close-up shot of an older man | Source: Midjourney

“What kind of coffee do you want?” I asked.

“Jamaican Blue Mountain,” he said, almost sheepishly. “I’ve heard it’s really good.”

I almost laughed. It was the priciest option on the menu. For a moment, I thought he might be joking. But the way he looked at me made me stop.

“Why that one?” I asked.

“It’s my birthday,” he smiled. “Always wanted to try it. Figured… why not today?”

A part of me wanted to roll my eyes.

Sure, it’s your birthday, I thought.

But another part of me decided to believe him.

A man lost in deep thought | Source: Midjourney

A man lost in deep thought | Source: Midjourney

“Alright,” I said, standing up. “Let’s get you that coffee.”

His face lit up with a genuine smile. “Thank you,” he said.

I didn’t just buy him the coffee, though. I added a slice of cake to the order because, honestly, what’s a birthday without cake? When I handed him the tray, I gestured to the empty chair at my table.

“Sit,” I said. “Tell me your story.”

For a second, he hesitated, like he wasn’t sure if I meant it.

A coffee mug on a table | Source: Pexels

A coffee mug on a table | Source: Pexels

But then he sat down, cradling the coffee cup like it was something sacred. And he started to talk.

His name was David, and he’d lost everything years ago, including his family, his job, and even his home. Betrayal and bad luck had played their parts, but he didn’t make excuses.

He spoke plainly, with a kind of raw honesty that made it impossible not to listen.

As I sat there, I realized this wasn’t just a man looking for a handout. This was someone who’d been broken by life but hadn’t given up.

A close-up shot of an older man's eye | Source: Pexels

A close-up shot of an older man’s eye | Source: Pexels

By the time he finished his story, I felt a lump in my throat I couldn’t quite swallow. I slipped him $100 before leaving, but he tried to refuse it.

“Consider this a gift from my side, man,” I told him. “And happy birthday!”

I walked out of that café thinking I’d done a small, good thing for a stranger. I’d never imagined I’d see him again. Or that he’d turn my entire world upside down just a few hours later.

A man looking straight ahead | Source: Midjourney

A man looking straight ahead | Source: Midjourney

The airport was buzzing with its usual chaos as I sat in the first-class waiting area, sipping another cup of coffee.

My nerves about meeting Kathy’s parents had calmed somewhat, but the thought of her father loomed large in my mind. What if he didn’t like me? What if he thought I wasn’t good enough for her?

I picked up my phone to text Kathy, who had already reached her parents’ place.

I’m super nervous, I wrote. How’s it going there?

Everything’s great, she texted back. I’m sure Dad’s going to love you.

When the boarding call came, I joined the line and found my seat near the window.

The view from an airplane's window | Source: Pexels

The view from an airplane’s window | Source: Pexels

First class felt like a luxury I didn’t deserve, but Kathy insisted I spoil myself for once. As I buckled in and glanced around, I couldn’t help but think about the man from the café. His story had stuck with me.

I hoped the $100 I’d given him would make his birthday a little brighter.

Just as I was settling in, a figure stepped into the aisle. My heart nearly stopped as I looked at his face.

A man sitting in an airplane | Source: Midjourney

A man sitting in an airplane | Source: Midjourney

It was him. The same man from the café.

But he wasn’t wearing the tattered clothes from earlier.

No, this man was in a sharp, tailored suit, his hair neatly combed, and a gleaming watch on his wrist.

He caught my eye and smirked.

“Mind if I join you?” he asked casually, sliding into the seat next to me.

I stared, my brain refusing to process the scene in front of me. “What… what’s going on here?”

He leaned back, a sly grin on his face. “Let’s call it… a test.”

An older man in an airplane | Source: Midjourney

An older man in an airplane | Source: Midjourney

“A test?” I repeated. “What are you talking about?”

The man chuckled softly as he pulled out a sleek notebook from his bag.

“Let me introduce myself properly. I’m David.” He paused, watching my reaction. “Kathy’s father.”

“Wait… you’re her dad?” I blurted out. “The one I’m flying out to meet?”

“The very same,” he said, still grinning. “You see, I’ve always believed in a hands-on approach. I wanted to see who my daughter’s fiancé really is outside the polished dinner introductions and carefully rehearsed answers.”

A close-up shot of an older man's face | Source: Midjourney

A close-up shot of an older man’s face | Source: Midjourney

I couldn’t believe it. Why didn’t Kathy tell me about this? Was she a part of this plan?

“So, this was all an act?” I asked.

“A necessary one,” he replied calmly. “It’s easy to show kindness when everyone’s watching. But I wanted to know how you’d treat a stranger, especially one who seemed to have nothing to offer you. Turns out, you passed the first part.”

“The first part?” I echoed. “How many parts are there?”

He opened the notebook and handed me a pen. “Just one more. Write a letter to Kathy.”

“A letter?”

A young man looking straight ahead | Source: Midjourney

A young man looking straight ahead | Source: Midjourney

“Yes,” he said, leaning back in his seat. “Tell her why you love her, why you want to marry her, and how you’ll take care of her. Don’t overthink it. Be honest.”

I stared at the blank page as beads of sweat formed on my temples. This wasn’t what I’d signed up for. But as much as I wanted to protest, I knew I couldn’t.

So, I started writing.

At first, the words came slowly, stumbling over thoughts and emotions. But soon, the pen seemed to move on its own.

A man writing a letter | Source: Pexels

A man writing a letter | Source: Pexels

I wrote about how Kathy made me feel complete, how her laughter could brighten my darkest days, and how I wanted to build a life with her filled with trust and joy.

By the time I finished, my hand ached, but my heart felt lighter.

However, I still wasn’t sure if I’d pass the test. What if this was a trick question? What if David’s test wasn’t as simple as it looked?

A close-up shot of a man sitting near in the window seat | Source: Midjourney

A close-up shot of a man sitting near in the window seat | Source: Midjourney

After I handed him the notebook, he looked at it for a moment. Then, he looked up with a smile.

“You passed,” he said. “Welcome to the family.”

I felt so relieved after hearing those words.

This man, who had just tested me in the most unexpected way, extended his hand. I shook it firmly, knowing I had crossed the final hurdle.

“Now, let’s see how well you do at home,” he said.

An older man in a black suit | Source: Midjourney

An older man in a black suit | Source: Midjourney

When we finally landed and deboarded, I was both physically and mentally exhausted. As we walked through the terminal, I tried to steady my breathing, hoping I’d done enough to impress him, but my nerves were still fraying at the edges.

The drive to Kathy’s parents’ house was quiet. She and her mother were waiting for us there.

Meanwhile, my mind was racing with thoughts of what the evening would bring. I wasn’t just meeting her parents anymore. I had passed the “test.” But what did that even mean? Would David’s approval be enough? What would happen at their home?

Cars on a road | Source: Pexels

Cars on a road | Source: Pexels

When we arrived, Kathy’s mother, Susan, greeted us warmly. Kathy’s brothers and sister were there too.

David, however, kept his usual serious demeanor, eyeing me across the table. I couldn’t tell if he was still evaluating me or simply reserving judgment.

Dinner was an uncomfortable affair, with everyone making polite conversation while David sat back, watching everything closely.

Every time I spoke, he would nod or grunt, never offering much in return. Kathy’s siblings were easygoing, but David’s silence was almost deafening.

I couldn’t help but wonder, Did I really pass?

A man sitting for dinner in his house | Source: Midjourney

A man sitting for dinner in his house | Source: Midjourney

As the meal drew to a close, David set down his wine glass and cleared his throat.

“You’ve done well, Jimmy,” he said. “You’ve shown me who you really are. And that means something.”

Kathy squeezed my hand under the table.

“I’ve always known you were the right one for me,” she whispered.

“I’ve seen enough to know he’ll take care of you,” he said while smiling at his daughter. “You’ve got my blessing.”

A man smiling at his daughter | Source: Midjourney

A man smiling at his daughter | Source: Midjourney

I was super happy at that point, but there was something unspoken in the way David looked at me.

After dinner, as Kathy and I helped her parents clean up, I thought everything had fallen into place.

That’s when I stumbled upon a folded piece of paper on the counter.

As I unfolded it, I realized it was a receipt for a cup of coffee from the café I had visited earlier that morning. The one where I met David.

A young man looking at a receipt | Source: Midjourney

A young man looking at a receipt | Source: Midjourney

The receipt wasn’t for the coffee I bought for David, though. There was an additional charge at the bottom.

“Extra donation — $100.”

I picked it up and turned to Kathy.

“What’s this?” I asked her.

“Oh, that’s my dad’s way of tying up loose ends.”

I frowned, confused. “Loose ends?”

She leaned against the counter, her eyes twinkling. “You gave him $100 at the café, remember? He didn’t keep it. He handed it to the café staff and told them to count it as an extra donation after you left.”

“And… how do you know that? Did you know about his plan all along? Were you a part of it?”

A man talking to his fiancée | Source: Midjourney

A man talking to his fiancée | Source: Midjourney

She gave me a sly smile.

“Well, I was,” she said. “You didn’t think it was just about the coffee, did you? And how do you think Dad knew about your flight? Of course, it was me, Jimmy.”

At that point, I realized I wasn’t marrying into a regular family. These people were very special, and they wanted me to realize the importance of generosity. And what it meant to be a part of this family

A Boy Visited the Grave of His Adoptive Mother He Resented in Life, and Found an Envelope with His Name on It

13-year-old Stuart built walls around his heart, refusing to accept his adoptive mother’s love. His resentment for her followed her to the grave. One day, he found an envelope addressed to him on her tomb, bearing a truth that shattered his heart and brought him to tears.

The linoleum floor of the children’s shelter squeaked beneath five-year-old Stuart’s worn sneakers. His small fingers clutched a worn teddy bear, its fur matted and faded like a shield against the world’s indifference.

All the other children played joyfully in the background, but Stuart remained isolated. The surrounding joy and laughter felt like sandpaper on an open wound. He saw himself as “unwanted” and resigned himself to a life of loneliness.

A sad little boy holding a teddy bear | Source: Midjourney

A sad little boy holding a teddy bear | Source: Midjourney

His eyes, deep and weary for such a young soul, had seen too much. Countless potential couples had come and gone, but nobody showed any particular interest in adopting him. Either because he was too gloomy and shy, or perhaps because he simply didn’t fit the mold of the ideal adoptive child.

Then one day, a woman named Jennifer arrived at the shelter, and she was immediately drawn to Stuart. Her breath caught in her throat as she watched him. She saw more than just a child. She saw a spirit wounded, and a heart waiting to be understood.

Her life had been a series of challenges: late-night shifts, financial struggles, and the weight of being alone. But something about this boy spoke to her in a language beyond words.

A woman smiling | Source: Midjourney

A woman smiling | Source: Midjourney

“Hi there,” she said gently, her voice soft as a whisper, careful not to startle him.

Stuart’s head jerked up, his body tensing. He thought it was going to be another potential disappointment. And another moment of hope about to be crushed.

He’d learned to read adults, their fake smiles, and their rehearsed kindness. His teddy bear pressed tightly against his chest, his only true companion.

“Are you another person who’s just going to look at me and then leave?” Stuart’s voice was small like a fragile growl from a wounded cub.

A sad little boy looking up | Source: Midjourney

A sad little boy looking up | Source: Midjourney

Jennifer’s heart broke. She knelt down, moving slowly, understanding that sudden movements could shatter this delicate moment.

“No, not at all, sweetie. I’m Jennifer. And I promise you, I’m not here to just look and leave.”

Stuart’s eyes — those enormous, skeptical eyes — studied her. Years of disappointment had taught him that promises meant nothing.

“Would you like to come home with me?” Jennifer asked, her hand hovering just inches from his, respecting his space.

A battle raged in Stuart’s small heart. Hope versus abandonment. Trust versus heartbreak.

Close-up shot of a compassionate woman extending her hand | Source: Midjourney

Close-up shot of a compassionate woman extending her hand | Source: Midjourney

“You really want me?” he whispered, tears threatening to spill. “Everybody says I’m a gloomy kid.”

At that moment, Jennifer saw beyond the frightened child. She saw a soul desperate to be loved and belong.

“More than anything in this world,” she replied, her eyes glistening. “More than you could ever know.”

Little did Stuart know that Jennifer wanted him more than he could ever imagine… not just as an adopted child, but as the very heartbeat of her existence.

The teddy bear seemed to squeeze a little less tightly now. A tiny, almost imperceptible crack appeared in Stuart’s protective wall.

A sad little boy with his eyes downcast | Source: Midjourney

A sad little boy with his eyes downcast | Source: Midjourney

Hope, fragile and trembling, began to take root. The adoption was finalized, and Stuart finally found a loving home. However, he refused to accept Jennifer as his mother, building a fort of reluctance around his heart.

She was hurt by his resistance. He wouldn’t even call her “Mom.” Just Jennifer. She hoped that time would heal the wounds.

But the years rolled by like a turbulent river, each moment a test of Jennifer’s love and Stuart’s wounded heart. The shield of isolation the boy had built in the children’s shelter grew taller and more fortified with each passing year.

A boy looking out the window | Source: Midjourney

A boy looking out the window | Source: Midjourney

But Jennifer didn’t give up, and she kept trying, hoping for a miracle.

Homework night was always a battlefield.

“I don’t need your help!” Stuart would argue. His backpack would sail across the room, folders and papers scattering like fallen leaves.

Jennifer remained calm, her hands steady as she collected the fallen papers. “I’m just trying to help you, sweetheart.”

“Don’t call me that!” Stuart’s eyes would blaze. “My real mother would have understood me. She would have known exactly what I needed without me having to explain! You’re NOT my REAL mother.”

The words were a knife, but Jennifer’s love was stronger than the boy’s hatred. She knew each harsh word was another layer of his protection, and another attempt to push away the love he desperately needed but was terrified to accept.

A heartbroken woman | Source: Midjourney

A heartbroken woman | Source: Midjourney

“Your algebra looks challenging,” she said one day, picking up a crumpled worksheet. “Want to talk about it?”

“No!” Stuart, now ten, turned away, his small shoulders rigid with ignorance. “You wouldn’t understand. You’re not—”

“Not your real mom,” Jennifer finished his sentence, a sad smile touching her lips. “I know.”

But her eyes told a different story. Each word he threw was a fragment of a heart trying to protect itself, a child desperate to believe he was unlovable because loving meant risking abandonment again.

A frustrated boy | Source: Midjourney

A frustrated boy | Source: Midjourney

Later that night, Jennifer sat on the edge of Stuart’s bed. He pretended to be asleep, but she knew better. Her hand hovered over his back, not touching, but close enough to offer comfort.

“I might not be your real mother,” she whispered, “but my love for you is as real as any love can be.”

Stuart’s breath hitched just for a moment.

“Go away,” he mumbled, but there was less anger now. But more hurt. And more vulnerability.

Jennifer’s hurt burned within her. How she wanted to pull him into a hug. How she wanted to explain that her love ran deeper than he could possibly understand. But fear held her back. The fear of losing him forever.

“I’ll always be here,” she said softly before leaving the room. “Always.”

A portrait of an emotional woman | Source: Midjourney

A portrait of an emotional woman | Source: Midjourney

In the darkness, Stuart clutched his old teddy bear — the one from the shelter. The one Jennifer had carefully preserved all these years. A silent witness to a love more complicated than either of them could comprehend.

The night absorbed their unspoken emotions… the love, the pain, and the desperate need to connect yet fear of being lost.

Years fleeted by like leaves on the breeze. Then one day, the diagnosis came like a thunderbolt, splitting Jennifer’s world into a before and after.

Stage four. Terminal cancer.

The doctor’s words echoed in the sterile hospital room, but Jennifer’s mind was anywhere but on herself.

A doctor in her office | Source: Midjourney

A doctor in her office | Source: Midjourney

Stuart, now 13, sat across from her, his arms crossed, and a wall of teenage indifference masking the storm of emotions brewing beneath.

“I need to talk to you about some important things,” Jennifer began, her voice soft and loving. Her hands trembled slightly as she reached for a notebook comprising a compilation of life lessons, contact information, and love she wanted to leave behind.

“I don’t want to hear it,” Stuart muttered, turning away.

Jennifer’s heart ached. Even now, her son refused to let her in. “Please,” she said, “just listen for a moment.”

A teenage boy frowning in a hospital | Source: Midjourney

A teenage boy frowning in a hospital | Source: Midjourney

She began explaining practical matters — how to do laundry, basic cooking, and managing small household tasks. Each instruction was a love letter disguised as mundane advice.

“You’ll need to learn to take care of yourself after I’m gone, dear,” she explained, sliding the notebook across the table. “Insurance papers are in the blue folder. Emergency contacts are—”

“Stop!” Stuart’s voice erupted, tears threatening to spill over but never falling. “Stop acting like you’re already gone!”

A woman lying in a hospital bed | Source: Pexels

A woman lying in a hospital bed | Source: Pexels

The room fell silent. Jennifer’s eyes were pools of infinite love and unshed tears.

“I’m trying to protect you,” she whispered. “I’ve always been trying to protect you.”

Stuart fled the room, fighting back tears. The thought of being left alone all over again crushed his spirit.

Then, a month later, Jennifer lost her battle with cancer.

At the funeral, Stuart stood like a statue. The world moved around him. People were whispering, crying, and sharing memories. But he remained detached like a marble figure carved from grief and anger.

A grieving teenage boy in a cemetery | Source: Midjourney

A grieving teenage boy in a cemetery | Source: Midjourney

Jennifer’s best friend, Carol, watched him carefully. She remembered Jennifer’s final request… a promise made in quiet, desperate moments.

“Promise me you’ll help him understand,” Jennifer had whispered just two days before she died, her hand clutching Carol’s. “Promise me you’ll make sure he knows how much he was loved. Promise me you’ll be there for him and love him like your own.”

Sighing a deep breath, Carol turned to Stuart. His eyes were dry. No tears. No visible emotion. Just a profound emptiness that scared Carol more than any outburst could.

As the casket lowered, something inside the boy began to crack. Not visibly. Not yet. But a fracture had begun… tiny, almost imperceptible, but real.

Somberly dressed men carrying a casket | Source: Pexels

Somberly dressed men carrying a casket | Source: Pexels

Carol approached Stuart after the service. “Your mother,” she began, “she loved you more than—”

“Don’t,” Stuart cut her off. “Just don’t.”

He returned home, enveloped by a grave silence. Jennifer’s voice, her constant, “Dinner is ready, sweetie!” calls from downstairs, and even the aroma of the pies she used to bake for him haunted Stuart. He walked around the house, tormented by the ghosts of memories.

The last thing Jennifer had written in her diary, tucked away where Stuart would eventually find it, was a simple message:

“My dearest Stuart,

I love you more than you will ever know.

More than words can say.

Always & forever,

Mom”

A diary | Source: Pixabay

A diary | Source: Pixabay

Stuart threw the diary on the bed, refusing to cry. But beneath the anger, beneath the wall he’d built, a tiny seed of something had been planted. A seed Jennifer had nurtured with every breath of her life.

Nine days after the funeral, Carol looked frail as she nervously approached Stuart in his room. He was staring at Jennifer’s framed photo on the wall.

“Sweetie,” Carol called out. The boy approached reluctantly.

“Before your mother died,” she said, “she made me promise to do something.” Her fingers, now thin and trembling, gripped his wrist. “Nine days after she was gone, I was to place something at her grave.”

A boy facing the wall | Source: Midjourney

A boy facing the wall | Source: Midjourney

Stuart’s eyes widened. “What is that?”

“You should visit her grave, sweetheart. She left something there just for you.”

Stuart’s eyes filled with tears he forced himself to hold back. “For me? But why there… of all places?”

“Because some truths can only be understood when the heart is ready to listen, dear.”

Mustering the courage, Stuart hurried to the cemetery, his legs slowing down as he approached Jennifer’s grave. Tears welled up in his eyes when he found an envelope on her tomb.

It was pristine. Addressed to him in her familiar, loving handwriting.

An envelope on a tomb | Source: Midjourney

An envelope on a tomb | Source: Midjourney

His hands shook as he opened it and began reading:

“From your biological mother.

My dearest Stuart,

The day I gave birth to you, I was a scared 19-year-old girl. Your father, a man who promised me the world, disappeared the moment he learned I was pregnant. I was alone, terrified, with nothing but a broken dream and a baby I loved more than life itself. My heart shattered the day I left you at the shelter’s doorstep.

Those five years you spent there broke my heart into a million pieces. Each night, I would cry, wondering if you were warm, if you were loved, and if you were eating enough. I worked three jobs, saved every penny, just to create a life where I could bring you home.

When I came to adopt you, I saw a boy who had been hurt. Abandoned. Rejected. And I knew I could never tell you the truth. Not then. Not when your wounds were so fresh.

So I became your adoptive mom… the woman who would love you unconditionally. Who would absorb your anger and your hatred. Who would wait patiently for the day you might understand and accept me.

I am not just your adoptive mother. I am your biological mother. I have always been your mother.

I loved you before you were born. I loved you through every harsh word. I love you still… from the beyond.

Forgive me. Please.

Your mother,

Jennifer”

An emotional boy reading a letter in a cemetery | Source: Midjourney

An emotional boy reading a letter in a cemetery | Source: Midjourney

Warm tears splashed onto the paper. Time seemed to stand still as memories flooded back: Jennifer’s endless patience. Her quiet love. The teddy bear she’d kept all these years. Every little thing.

“MOM!” Stuart whispered, his voice breaking free of the emotions he’d been holding all these years. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

His fingers traced the gravestone. The wind seemed to wrap around him like a mother’s embrace.

“I love you,” he sobbed. “I always loved you. I just didn’t know how to show it. I was afraid of losing you. Of being abandoned again. I didn’t do it intentionally. And I… I didn’t know that you were my real mother. I’m sorry.”

A boy crying in a cemetery | Source: Midjourney

A boy crying in a cemetery | Source: Midjourney

Silence surrounded him. Then, a gentle gust of breeze caressed his cheek. It felt like Jennifer was patting him. A small smile lit up Stuart’s face as he carefully tucked the letter back into the envelope. He leaned and planted a soft kiss on the gravestone, whispering, “Love you, Mom.”

From that day onward, Stuart visited his mother’s grave daily. Not out of obligation. But out of a love finally understood. A love that had waited, patient and unconditional, through every harsh word and every moment of rejection. A love that would continue… unbroken and forever.

A grieving boy holding a bouquet of white lilies in a cemetery | Source: Midjourney

A grieving boy holding a bouquet of white lilies in a cemetery | Source: Midjourney

This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.

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