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The cashier wasn’t sympathetic. Her voice rose. She told the man to leave if he couldn’t pay. She pointed toward the door.
The man’s shoulders sagged as he turned away.
Then he looked back at the old man.
Sean reached into his pocket and pulled out the crumpled bills.
“Sir,” he said gently, holding them out, “it’s not much, but you can have this.”
The man stared at him, stunned. “Thank you,” he said, voice thick. “I just need water for my pills.”
Sean nodded. “That’s what it’s for.”
The man insisted on getting Sean’s phone number so he could repay him. Sean gave it without thinking much of it. He didn’t expect anything to come of it. He just wanted the man to be okay.
The next morning, Sean woke to the sound of engines outside the tent.
Two black SUVs sat nearby. Men in clean jackets stepped out and approached him calmly. They handed him a sealed envelope and told him he needed to be at a specific address later that day.
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