Thomas Baker woke up that Monday morning with the beatific feeling that all was well with the world. He’d gotten his 8 hours of sleep, he’d finished grading all of his students’ essays on the Civil War the night before, and his wife was feeling amorous before the sun came up, which was quite rare.

Later that morning on the way to work, while waiting for the light to turn green, he noticed a bedraggled woman standing on the corner. She was dressed in grimy rags. Her hair and face were both matted with dirt. As was often the case with the homeless, Thomas couldn’t tell if she was thirty or sixty.

On impulse, Thomas lowered his window and beckoned her over, a crisp twenty dollar bill in his hand. Why not, he thought to himself. She looks like she needs it more than me. The woman took it with a shy smile, and Thomas noticed that her eyes, though faded now, must have once been beautiful.

“Thank you,” she said, her words slurring together slightly.

“You’re quite welcome,” Thomas said, and he meant it.