She Chose Me — That’s All That Matters. The first time I saw him was outside a 24-hour laundromat, curled up on a ripped mat with a small orange cat asleep on his chest. She was missing half an ear. He had duct-taped shoes and a trash bag for a backpack. Life had clearly been hard.

I didn’t know their names, but I started bringing food from the café where I worked nights. He never asked for anything and always fed the cat first. One night, I sat down and asked her name. “Hazel,” he said. “She chose me. That’s all that matters.”

He told me little bits of his life — a lost family, a mother who died alone, and how he chose the streets over shelters…