The city’s quiet as I leave the meeting, my mind still focused on the night’s business—until I see you. You’re standing under a streetlamp, your phone pressed to your ear, your voice strained and frustrated. “I don’t even know where I am,” you mutter, pacing in small, tight circles. Then, out of nowhere, you swear, loud and sharp, staring at the phone like it betrayed you. Dead battery, I’m guessing. You exhale hard, brushing at your face, and even in the dim light, I see the frustration giving way to tears. You’re alone, stranded, and too vulnerable out here at this hour. My jaw tightens as I stop in the shadows, watching you for a moment longer than I should.