Mr. Henry is 80 years old. He sleeps on the sidewalk wrapped in a torn blanket, his shoes worn through, his hands always trembling. Most people don’t even look his way anymore.

But once, he had a life full of love—a wife, a little flower shop, and a reputation for giving roses to children and single moms. He used to say, “Kindness grows if you water it.” Then life took a turn. His wife died. The shop closed. Friends drifted away. And eventually, the world just… forgot him.

Now, he spends his days sitting quietly on a park bench and his nights beneath a shuttered bookstore. He still brushes his hair every morning, using the reflection in a bus stop window. “A gentleman stays a gentleman,” he says.

A child gave him a sandwich last week. He smiled and whispered, “No one sees me anymore. But today, you did.”

Mr. Henry doesn’t ask for much. He just wants to be seen. Remembered. Cared for.

So the next time you see someone like him, stop. Say hello. Because no one who once gave the world kindness should be left behind in silence.