I looked at the photograph again and remembered the rain, the shoe pressed to Carlo’s ear, and the red lights of my bus disappearing into the night.
For years, I had believed missing an opportunity meant losing something I would never recover.
That night taught me otherwise.
Sometimes the door that closes is only clearing your view of the person standing in the road.
And sometimes dignity is restored not by becoming powerful enough to frighten everyone, but by remaining kind when frightened people expect you to walk away.
