The summer sun scorched the sidewalks of Fifth Avenue in New York. Beneath the harsh glare of the afternoon light, a young man sat slouched on the corner, his back against a brick wall. His name was Ethan — 28 years old, lean from hunger, with tangled hair, cracked lips, and a pair of blue eyes dulled by time and suffering.
His shirt was threadbare, hanging loosely from a frame grown too thin, his ribs visible beneath the fabric. Passersby barely glanced in his direction. To them, he was just another homeless man — a fixture of the street, not worth a second thought.
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