One day, I walked in without knocking after letting a homeless woman stay in my garage. With a vast house, fancy automobiles, and enough money to last a lifetime, I had it all.
But nothing appeared to be able to fill the void that was inside of me in spite of everything. I was starting to see that financial prosperity was insufficient at the age of sixty-one.
I had never met someone who desired me for anything beyond the riches I inherited, and I had never had a family. I was more affected by loneliness than I wanted to acknowledge.
One day I was traveling across the city when I saw her, a shabby lady hunched over a garbage can, searching through abandoned bags.
Why I even slowed down to look was a mystery to me. She was surrounded by people who blended in with the bustling streets.
But I was drawn to something about her. Her movements were determined, and her fragile body exuded a fierceness that appeared to challenge her situation.