I saw two men at the Bus Stop.
One had an umbrella.
One didn’t.
One had droplets running down his nose.
The other had a dry nose.
The man with the umbrella wondered if the other man was crying.
He wondered if he needed help.
He offered him his handkerchief.
The wet man couldn’t understand why he was being offered a handkerchief.
But he didn’t want to rebuff the gesture, so he took it and folded it into his breast-pocket.
The man with the umbrella had intended the handkerchief as a loan and not as a gift.
He thought it rude that the other man had kept it.
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