I Handed My Jacket to a Woman in the Cold, and Two Weeks Later a Velvet Box Turned My World Upside Down

back pressed hard against the stone. As if the building might lend her a little of its stored warmth. As if leaning into something solid could keep the cold from pushing her out of the world.

She was bundled in a thin sweater that looked like it had been washed too many times. No coat. No gloves. Her hands were tucked beneath her arms, but they still shook, a faint tremor that made me flinch. The sidewalk around her was damp and gray, speckled with grit, and people stepped around her the way water parts around a rock. Quick, practiced detours without eye contact.

I’d seen her before. Or maybe I’d seen someone like her. In a city like ours, those stories blur together if you let them.

I tightened continue reading …