The woman on the bus. You never expect your life to be saved by someone you’ll never see again.

You never expect your life to be saved by someone you’ll never see again.

I was exhausted, pressed into the corner of a crowded bus after a ten-hour shift, the hum of voices and engine noise blurring into something distant. My head leaned against the window, eyes half-closed, just trying to make it home.

Then she got on.

An older woman. Thin. Fragile-looking. A cane in one hand, plastic bags cutting into the other. No one moved.

So I stood up.

“Here,” I said, offering my seat.

She didn’t thank me.

She looked at me.