I took Jean-Luc outside and my downstairs neighbor, an elderly gentleman, had fallen on the sidewalk carrying in his groceries. I was shocked to see everyone just walk past him as I helped him onto the bench, carried his groceries in, and brought him a glass of water. I asked him if he was okay, and he said he would be. He asked me If I was okay since I had clearly been crying. I said I would be. He asked me what was wrong. “Heartbreak”.
“Better a broken hip than a broken heart. I wouldn’t trade places with you if I could. I’m sorry. I hear you sometimes:
“Don’t be. I’m sorry you hurt so much. It’s not right for a lovely young woman to be in that much pain”.
“Thank you for saying so. Can I do anything for you?”
He shook his head, handed me my glass and I walked him to the door. I still don’t know his name. It’s funny how strangers can sometimes see your pain more clearly that your closest friends.
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