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I was on my way to the city center with my $25 birthday money that my granny had given me to celebrate turning thirteen. I had my heart set on the new NBA game when I saw him, sat there alone in sorrow. He was isolated from the world, lonely, neglected. My heart stopped as I approached him. He smelt horrific, but that did not bother me. His face was wrinkled with age and sadness radiated from him. He had a shopping cart, a dollar bill and a look of hopelessness in his eyes. As I stood there and stared, our eyes met. This poor man had nothing but the medals on his chest. Then I knew what I had to do. I walked over and gave the homeless man my money. He smiled showing his many missing teeth, nodded and thanked me. I could see the hopelessness in his eyes disappear, someone cared, someone had faith in him.  That was the best birthday gift.  

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