“I WOKE UP TO FIND MY FLAG GONE—AND A $20 BILL ON MY DOORSTEP

When I moved into my new home, I hung a small flag out front. It wasn’t meant to make a statement—just something familiar to help a new place feel like home. New street. New neighbors. Everything unfamiliar. I was the newcomer, quietly finding my footing.

It wasn’t even a large flag, just modestly clipped to the porch post. So when I walked out one Tuesday morning, coffee in hand, and saw it was gone, I was more surprised than anything else. But what really stopped me was what had been left behind.

A crisp $20 bill and a sticky note that read:

“Nothing personal. Hope this covers it.”

No name. No explanation.

I held that note and bill like a puzzle I couldn’t quite piece together. Was I angry? Confused? Maybe a little of both—but mostly, I felt disappointed. Not because of the flag, or even the money, but because something that meant something to me had been quietly dismissed by someone else.

I hadn’t made a fuss. I’d kept to myself. Mowed the lawn. Waved when people passed. Tried to be a good neighbor.

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