On the corner of my street, there is a small bakery. The shop is owned by a lovely elderly couple, Joe and Fran. Their children are horrible scum, who deserted their parents in old age. I help where I can, including watching the shop for them on the weekends, buying groceries and odd jobs around the house. That's six.
I work in an office, the same office I've worked in for fifteen years. My boss doesn't remember my name - I won't put him on the list. But I've got a co-worker, Becky, my friend. She's a mess of a person, going through her fourth divorce. She's got five kids, all from different men, three cats, a snake and a parakeet. I help keep her feet on the ground, knock some sense into her now and again. That's seven.
I've got an ex-boyfriend, Dan, hanging around. We dated back in high school, for three weeks. It was nothing special, but Dan fell in love, and can't seem to fall out. He knows that I'm married, but he comes by on birthdays and special events with a bouquet of flowers. My presence sustains him. That's eight.
Everyday, as I walk to work, I smile at people I pass by. Often, they smile back. I like to think I've made their day somehow better, their lives a bit happier. There are countless of people there, not to mention all of the potential to meet more in the future. Those are the people, the families, that will be shattered if I die. That is the price of one human life. Are you sure you want to have that on your hands?
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