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Interior of a busy American restaurant at lunch—warm overhead lighting, exposed wood beams, packed tables with white American diners. First three seconds: A white American manager in a pressed white shirt SHOVES an older white American man in dusty clothes. The older man falls hard to the floor, his worn carpenter's cap tumbling away. The manager looms over him, face red, shouting: "Get OUT—or I'll make you regret it!" The camera cuts to a white American elderly woman in her seventies at a nearby table. She stands abruptly, chair scraping, pointing at the manager: "That man BUILT this building! You have NO right!" Gasps ripple through the crowd. White American diners turn in shock—hands covering mouths, forks dropping. Voices overlap in urgent whispers. Cut back to the older man on the floor, breathing hard. Two white American patrons—a middle-aged man in a suit and a younger woman—rush to his side, reaching down to help him up. They grip his arms gently, lifting him with care. Close-up on the older man's face—eyes glistening, jaw trembling, quiet dignity despite humiliation. The manager stands frozen, hand still outstretched, as twenty phones rise around the room. Recording. No logos, no brand names, no signage, no watermarks, no text overlays. Cinematic, realistic, grounded tension.