As I pulled into the parking spot, I noticed her.
About thirty years old. She was in the driver seat, with nobody else in her car. The left hand held the smartphone to her ear, and the right hand was gesticulating, a lot.
And then I saw her face.
She was crying.
She then wiped away the tears that were flowing down.
What can this man do? What can anyone do?
The world is a messy place.
While we can philosophize that our consciousness about ourselves and this world is nothing but a “user-illusion,” everyday life is not easy. Our bodies ache. Our minds ache. She cries in the public, with her vehicle giving her a private space. Most cry at home. Or even on Facebook.
I imagined walking up to her car and knocking on the window. "Are you alright?" She would probably say that she was fine. "I'm ok, thank you."
Instead, I slowly got out of my car, and stole a glance at her. She was gesticulating and crying.
"If she is there even when I return, I will check on her," I told myself.
I considered picking up a chocolate bar for the distraught one. I decided against.
Her vehicle was gone when I returned.
I started driving back home. The light turned red, and I stopped.
The homeless man held up his cardboard sign. I acknowledged his presence with a nod.
It does not seem right that I empathize with the woman who was crying in her car, while I drive past the homeless man.
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