I stepped into a flower shop one afternoon, intending to buy bouquets for my wife and daughter. As I browsed, I noticed an elderly man standing quietly near the entrance.
He wore an old trench coat, slightly worn slacks, and shoes that had clearly been shined with care. His shirt was plain, tucked neatly under the coat. He didn’t look homeless—just weathered by life. Though poor, there was a dignity in how he carried himself.
