In the weeks after, I began stopping by the bridge—not out of pity, but out of friendship. Sometimes I brought coffee; sometimes, just conversation.
No matter what he had, Jesse always shared it freely. Under that bridge, bread and laughter turned strangers into neighbors.
He may live on the margins, but his generosity is at the center of our community. Now, when I see that bridge, I don’t just see concrete and steel—I see Jesse, his dogs, and the quiet proof that true wealth is measured in what you give, not what you keep.
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