Witness.
For three weeks, it appeared beside another.
Spouse.
A shadow fell across the pavement.
“Excuse me. Is anyone sitting here?”
A man carrying a worn backpack pointed toward the empty space beside me.
Instinctively, my hand moved toward my purse.
Then I stopped.
“No.”
He sat down.
My first impulse was to ask whether he wanted coffee.
Then I remembered one of Larry’s final instructions.
“Next time you start trying to fix somebody’s life, ask what they actually want first.”
So I said nothing.
For a while, the two of us simply watched commuters hurry toward the station.
Then I extended my hand.
“I’m Sarah.”
The man looked surprised before shaking it.
“Jeremy.”
“Nice to meet you.”
I picked up the second cup and took a sip.
