Yakabatanidzwa ruzha

Every day, he passed the same street corner. He didn’t just drop coins into the beggar’s cup; he stopped. He gave a smile, a nod—a moment of true respect. He treated that corner like any other part of his busy life, never expecting a thing in return. ‎Then, life shifted. He lost everything. Walking past that same corner, his head was down. He was ashamed. He felt that since he had nothing left to give, he was no longer worth seeing. ‎But he didn't make it past. A hand reached out and gently stop