Several years ago, a friend and I were dining in a restaurant’s outdoor seating area. As we neared the end of our dinner, we noticed a man watching us from the sidewalk. His clothes were dirty, his face haggard. He walked up to us and with a cracked voice said, “When you finish your meal, if you have any leftovers, would you mind if I ate them?” We invited him to sit down, and we asked the waitress to bring him a grilled chicken and butter pasta entrée. For the next half hour, he told us bits of his story.
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