When a wealthy man cruelly mocks an elderly woman after a minor accident, no one dares intervene — until Mark, a homeless man, steps forward, demanding respect. The rich man jeers at Mark’s appearance, but the next day, fate flips the script, and he’s on his knees begging for forgiveness. Mark shuffled along the cracked pavement, his worn boots barely making a sound as the busy city buzzed around him. In a city so full of life, Mark was a ghost, unnoticed and unseen.

He tried to make eye contact with the well-dressed strangers hurrying past, but they studiously ignored him. Nobody wanted to risk having a homeless man ask them for money. Mark knew this, but he looked at them, anyway. It was a game of sorts. Possibly a challenge. Or, maybe, it was just a way to remember that he was once a person like these, with a job and a nice home.

Those days felt like a dream now, but lately, Mark had felt the need to cling to that dream (He didn’t yet dare to call it hope, or even acknowledge that he wished for those better days. That hurt too much and brought up old wounds.)

Mark liked to wonder where he would be if life hadn’t kicked him into the gutter. Would he be a department head? Or perhaps even CEO? He chuckled at that thought. But his laughter died as a sharp voice cut through the usual hum of traffic and chatter. Mark looked up just in time to see a gleaming black Jeep parked too close to an old sedan. The driver, a man in his thirties wearing an expensive suit, was towering over an elderly woman. She cowed before him, her face a picture of confusion and distress.

The man with the suit scoffed. “You shouldn’t even be allowed on the road at your age! How did you even get a license? They just hand those out now?” A small crowd had gathered, but no one stepped forward. They watched like spectators at some grotesque play, all too uncomfortable to intervene. Mark’s chest tightened, heat creeping into his neck. He’d seen enough cruelty in his time on the streets, but something about this — the arrogance, the sheer lack of humanity — hit a nerve deep inside him. Before he knew it, his legs were moving.

“Hey,” Mark called out, his voice cutting through the din. “That’s enough.” The man in the suit turned, his sharp eyes narrowing at the sight of Mark, sizing him up in a glance. He immediately turned back to the old lady, ignoring Mark. “I hope you’re insured, you old crone, because you’re going to pay for the damage you’ve caused to my car. “Mark charged forward. The small crowd parted hurriedly, wrinkling their noses and pulling disgusted faces. Mark barely noticed. He stepped between the arguing pair and looked the suited man in the eye.

“I told you to cut it out,” Mark growled, ignoring the stares of the onlookers, his heart steady despite the adrenaline pumping through him. “You don’t talk to people like that. You need to apologize and beg this woman for forgiveness.”