That’s when I noticed her.
For illustrative purposes only
A woman lay near the edge of the road, half on the grass, half on the gravel shoulder. A grocery bag had split open beside her. An apple had rolled down the slope. She was down on one knee, one hand pressed to the ground, her shoulders trembling—not from cold, but from something deeper.
“Ma’am?” I called, unsure if I should come closer.
She lifted her head slowly. Her gray hair was tied back loosely, her face pale and drawn. When she spoke, her voice barely carried.
“Sweetheart… could you help me?”
I didn’t think about danger. I didn’t think about rules. I crouched down and started gathering her groceries, brushing dirt off cans with my sleeve, stacking them carefully in my arms.
“My name is Charlotte,” she said, breathing unevenly. “I’m fifty. I was walking home when I suddenly felt weak. The hill… I lost my balance.”
“Are you hurt?” I asked.
