“Well, well, well… Who do we have here?”

You lift your head slowly, squinting through the dirt and shadows, trying to place the familiar voice.

“It’s me. Krall. Don’t you remember?”

The name hits you like a slap.

Krall.

Of course.

The quiet boy you used to bully back in junior high. The one you mocked every day… made cry… humiliated in front of others. Back then, he was small, awkward, invisible.

But now… He stands tall. Confident. Sharp suit, clean watch, expensive shoes. And you…

You’re sitting on the pavement. A chipped cup at your feet. A few cold coins inside. No home. No pride. No future.

You can barely meet his eyes.