I don’t have a home,” he rasped. “But I’ll be okay.”

Lily’s face crumpled. “So you’re homeless,” she whispered. “That means no refrigerator… no food…”

Then she did something that stole my breath. She pulled three wrinkled dollars from her rainbow coin purse—the one she’d been filling with birthday money and spare change—and pressed them into his hand, along with her lemonade.

“Please go eat,” she said. “It would make me really happy. I like McDonald’s. You should go there.”

The man stared at her like she’d placed treasure in his lap. His hand trembled as he took the drink and cash.

“Thank you,” he whispered, his shoulders loosening.

Two nearby shoppers, who had been watching, stepped forward—one handed him a $20, the other a $50. Kindness rippled outward.