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60% the rise of a homeless man / Chapter 12: ch12

บท 12: ch12

John noticed the tension, the way the air grew thick with unspoken words and the way the rival's eyes burned with a malicious light. He knew they had to do something, to protect what they had built together. So, he approached the man, his hand outstretched in peace. "Look, we're all just trying to get by," he said, his voice steady. "We don't have to be enemies."

The rival sneered, his breath reeking of alcohol and bitterness. "You think you're better than me?" he spat. "You think because you got lucky with that phone, you can just waltz in here and take over?" His words stung, but John knew better than to let them in. He had seen the dark path that envy could lead to, and he wasn't going to let it consume him or his friends.

The group gathered around John, a wall of solidarity against the man's vitriol. Linda stepped forward, her voice soft but firm. "We're not here to take from you," she said. "We're here to build something new, something that can help us all." The artist nodded, his eyes never leaving the canvas before him. The chef stirred his pot, the aroma of their shared dreams wafting through the air.

The rival looked at them, his expression flickering with doubt. For a moment, it seemed as though he might understand, might even find a shred of empathy within his hardened heart. But then he spat on the ground and turned away, muttering to himself. They watched him go, their hearts heavy with the weight of his pain.

That night, as they sat in their apartment, the phone in the center of the room, they talked about their own pasts. Each member shared their story, their voice a thread in the tapestry of their collective experience. They spoke of lost homes, of family, of the moments that had led them to this very point. They talked about Larry, their fallen comrade, and the spark of hope he had left behind.

They knew that their journey was not just about themselves; it was about creating a legacy that could ripple through the fabric of their community. They had to be more than just survivors; they had to be an example of what was possible when people came together. They had to be the change they wanted to see in the world.

The next day, they returned to the street, their heads held high. They had faced their adversary and had come out stronger for it. They had remembered why they were doing this, for Larry and for each other. The phone, now a symbol of their unity and their determination, buzzed with notifications, a constant reminder of the world watching their every move.

They had proven themselves, not just to Mr. Jenkins, but to the people who had once looked down on them. They had turned trash into treasure and had made a home for themselves in the unlikeliest of places. They had turned their lives into a story of hope, and now, they were ready to share it with the world.


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