A homeless man held up a sign that read, “Marry me. I have only one month left to live

“And after?” she said. “When it’s done. When he’s gone. What then?”

I didn’t have an answer. I hadn’t thought about after. I’d only thought about the problem in front of me, the clean solvable problem, the way I always did.

“Then I’ll have done a good thing,” I said.

Dana squeezed my hand and let it go.

“You’re a good person,” she said. “I just hope this is for him and not for you.”

I didn’t understand what she meant.

Now, thinking back, I think she saw it before I did. She saw that I needed to be needed the way some people need to be loved. That I’d built a whole life out of showing up for other people so I’d never have to sit still long enough to notice how alone I was.

Larry saw it too.

He saw it better than anyone.