She smiled at everyone.
At first, I barely noticed her.
Then one afternoon, after my manager fired me in front of two cashiers and told me I was “exactly the kind of man who would never get anywhere,” I walked out into the parking lot and sat on the curb behind the store with my head in my hands.
Evelyn found me there.
She had a paper bag in one arm and her purse hanging from the other.
“Young man,” she said gently, “are you all right?”
I almost told her to leave me alone.
Instead, I looked up and saw concern on her face. Real concern. Not pity exactly. Something worse.
Attention.
I had not been looked at that way in years.
So I lied.
I told her I was fine.
She did not believe me.
She asked if I had eaten.
I said yes.
She looked at the vending machine dinner beside me and said, “That is not eating.”
