George saw the woman crying. Not his problem. He didn’t make her cry. Then the ghost of his mother’s guilt grabbed him by the ear and dragged him towards her.
“You OK lady?”
If George was any less a man the look she gave him would have been fatal. She put her head down and returned to her sorrow, then jerked upright. “George?”
He looked carefully but did not recognize her.
“No, you don’t know me.” She said. “I used to sleep in your car.”
The bus came, she got on. George, frozen in shock, waved as she rode away.