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The rain was a torrent, and my little house felt like a ship in a wild sea. The knock was so soft I almost missed it. When I opened the door, the storm seemed to deliver a man directly to my feet. He was soaked, exhausted, and his eyes held a story of total loss. His name was James. Fear told me to close the door, but my heart wouldn’t let me. I brought him in, gave him warmth and food, and offered my couch. He was gone by morning, but not before making a promise to repay the kindness. I never expected him to. To me, it was one night of doing the decent thing.
