The Way Home

The first time I ever saw her, she was standing in the middle of the street, screaming. It was the middle of the night and there was nobody else around. I approached her cautiously, not knowing what to expect.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“I can’t find my way home!” she sobbed.

I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t want to leave her there alone, but I didn’t know how to help her.

“Maybe I can help you,” I said. “What’s your address?”

She told me and I recognized the street name. I had lived in that neighborhood for years.

“I know where that is,” I said. “Come with me and I’ll take you there.”

She hesitated for a moment, but then she nodded and took my hand. I led her back to my place and helped her to find her way home.

After that, I started to see her around more often. We would sometimes wave to each other from a distance, but we never spoke again. I never found out her name, but I like to think of her as my guardian angel.

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