The Lunchbox Angel
Every day at noon, rain or shine, an elderly man named Mr. Thompson could be found sitting on his favorite park bench. He would feed the pigeons breadcrumbs from a small paper bag, watch children play tag across the grass, and enjoy his modest lunch—a simple sandwich and an apple. It wasn’t much, but it brought him peace.
One bitterly cold winter afternoon, as frost clung to the bare branches of trees, a little boy named Liam shuffled toward the bench. His thin jacket offered little protection against the biting wind, and his hands were red and trembling. Mr. Thompson noticed the boy glancing longingly at the apple in his hand. Without saying a word, he held out the fruit with a kind smile.
Liam hesitated, then shyly accepted the gift. “Thank you,” he whispered before sitting down beside the old man. As they shared the quiet moment, Liam began talking about himself. He told Mr. Thompson how his mom worked two jobs just to make ends meet, and sometimes there wasn’t enough food at home. The boy spoke softly, but his words carried weight. Mr. Thompson listened intently, his heart swelling with compassion.
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