The old man slowly lifted his head, his cloudy blue eyes wide with surprise. His voice was cracked and weak. "What about you, miss?"
"Don't worry about me," Clara smiled warmly, kneeling slightly so she was at eye level with him. She handed the warm porcelain plate into his shaking hands. "You need it much more than I do. Eat while it's hot."
The old man took the burger in both hands, taking a slow, reverent bite. It was the first warm meal he had touched in hours.
The glass door swung open with a violent thud.
Richard, impeccably dressed in a tailored navy vest, crisp grey shirt, and a maroon tie, marched out onto the pavement. His face was flushed with fury as he stared at Clara and the beggar on the bench.
"What do you think you’re doing?!" Richard snapped, his voice sharp enough to draw the attention of nearby diners inside. "We don't feed people outside! This is a five-star establishment, not a soup kitchen for vagrants! You’re driving away our high-paying clientele!"