The air inside Summit Ridge National Bank was thick with hushed conversations and the faint rustling of papers. Bobby Keene, a man of few words but a lifetime of stories, stood quietly in line. His black cap, emblazoned with “Korea/Vietnam Veteran,” marked decades of service. In his pocket, he carried his VA card, discharge papers, and a brass challenge coin—a trio of symbols representing honor, sacrifice, and camaraderie.
When Bobby reached the counter, the young teller scrutinized his ID with suspicion. The manager, Caden, smirked. “This looks like something typed on a dinosaur,” he mocked, brushing off Bobby’s worn documents. Calmly, Bobby presented his challenge coin, a token of respect among soldiers, but Caden dismissed it as a meaningless trinket and called security.
Escorted to a bench, Bobby remained dignified, refusing to argue. Around him, whispers and stifled laughter echoed through the bank. Yet not everyone ignored the significance of his symbols. Maya Rodriguez, a former Air Force specialist, recognized the coin’s true value. “You’ve made a mistake,” she declared, confronting Caden, her voice commanding attention. Realizing she needed backup, Maya stepped outside, mind racing to find someone who could right this injustice.
Inside, an older employee overheard murmurs about Bobby. The name Keene struck a chord. Consulting the bank’s plaque honoring past community leaders, he confirmed what he already suspected—Bobby’s legacy demanded recognition. Quietly, he placed a call: “It’s Bishop Coyne. Summit Ridge. He’s here.”
Outside, Bobby sat, eyes fixed on the flapping flag, each ripple a reminder of battles fought abroad and within. Unbeknownst to the busy bank, help was on the way.
