Had I ever even said hello?
The thought filled me with a slow, creeping guilt.
He had seen me at my worst—angry, humiliated, vulnerable—and instead of turning away, he had quietly stepped forward to help.
He had not only reported the incident.
He had made things better.
Quietly. Kindly.
The next morning, I gathered what courage I could and walked over to his house.
When I knocked, the door opened almost immediately.
Graham stood there wearing a faded shirt and holding a bowl of cereal.
For a moment he looked surprised.
