“Would you like some water?” I finally asked. “You look exhausted.”

She shook her head.

“I can’t. My brother is waiting. He’s not well. I’m his only caregiver.”

“Only caregiver?”

“After our mom passed, it’s just me.” She forced a tired smile. “Goodnight, sir.”

She hurried back through the rain. From the window, I watched her reach an old rusted Mustang under the streetlamp. The engine would not start. Then she lowered her forehead to the wheel, and when her shoulders began to shake, I knew this was not just a bad night.

It was a hard life.

I grabbed my keys, but before I reached her, the engine finally caught. She wiped her face, backed out too quickly, and disappeared into the rain.

I stood there with cold food in my hand and twenty years of memories in my chest.