Random acts of pity

My eyes are rimmed with that blackened, swollen look that identifies drug addicts and cold suffers. Luckily, I fall into the latter category.

Exhausted from a sleepless night of coughing, sniffling, and feeling sorry for myself, I boarded a bendy bus (at risk of losing my immortal soul) and headed straight for the pharmacy. I needed medication, and I didn't particularly care what flavour.

On the fifteen minute ride, I was seized by several fits of coughing/choking that caused fellow passengers to give me the evil eye and shuffle away slowly. Not that I blame them. I probably looked just as bad as I sounded.

An elderly gentleman was standing across from me in the bendy section, patiently waiting for his stop. Sensing my agony, he pulled out a package of extra strength cough drops and wordlessly passed them to me. I gratefully accepted one, and tried to return the package, but he indicated I should keep them.

To this gentleman, I'd like to say thank you. That was the first real act of kindness (or pity) that I'd witnessed from a stranger in this city reputed for rudeness. Well, by my small town Canadian standards, anyway.