I used to know a kid. Not the man they call The Crypto King now - just a tired boy working the night shift at a gas station in Vancouver.
He took that job because it paid more, but I think he liked the quiet. That’s where we met under neon lights and a crooked moon.
Every night it was just him, me, and the moon. He’d share half his sandwich, pat my head, and talk about invisible money coins made of trust and code.
I didn’t understand, but I believed in him. Somehow, I always did. Then one night, he was gone.
No goodbye. Just silence where his voice used to be.

Years passed. I grew old. The city changed. And one night, I saw him again - on a TV screen glowing in a diner window.
Same eyes. Same fire. Only now, the world finally saw what I always did. They call him The Founder. The King.
But to me, he’s still the kid who shared his sandwich with a stray. Now I’m the one who needs him. My paws are slower, my nights colder.
So I’ve come looking for him again one last time. Not for food. Not for warmth. Just to remind him that even kings
need to remember the nights when it was just him, me, and the moon.
I was only Four when I met him and we spent 4 months together but felt like 4 days because we enjoyed the time…