I hadn\u2019t planned to stop that day. I was behind schedule, juggling work calls and unread messages about a meeting I\u2019d already forgotten. The winter air stung through my gloves as I turned the corner by 8th and Marshall, passing the same old pharmacy I always ignored. And there they were again\u2014man and dog\u2014right where I\u2019d seen them so many times before. The man sat quietly, wrapped in a too-small brown jacket, sleeves riding up over thin, pale wrists. His dog, a black-and-white mutt with a face full of stories, lay curled in his lap, eyes half-closed, like he trusted the world only because he trusted that man.<\/p>\n
I\u2019d walked past them at least a dozen times. They never asked for anything. Never even looked up. But something about them always stuck with me, like a quiet question I never answered. That day, maybe it was guilt or maybe it was something deeper, but I paused. My bag was heavier than usual\u2014leftovers, snacks, fruit. Stuff I didn\u2019t really need. And maybe I just needed to remember what it felt like to be human again.<\/p>\n