Rain on an Overpass
That morning, the sky was overcast over the city. I stood on an overpass, my favorite place to watch the hustle and bustle of the highway. A light rain had begun to fall, wetting the asphalt and making the vehicles below drive more cautiously.
I took out my phone and captured the scene—car lights glinting off the wet surface, traffic moving slowly like a river. There was something calming about the chaos.
Suddenly, a small boy ran toward me. He looked wet, wearing a worn jacket that was too big for his small frame. He was breathing heavily.
“Uncle, can I take shelter here for a while?” he asked in a low voice.
I nodded and made room for him under the roof of the overpass. I glanced at him—his eyes were full of hope, but also exhaustion.
“Where are you from?” I asked, trying to lighten the mood.
“From there,” he pointed toward a small alley under the overpass. “I have to deliver bread to a customer, but the rain is too heavy.”
I smiled, then opened my backpack and took out a piece of bread that I had brought from home. “Here, you can eat this first.”
His eyes lit up. He quickly accepted the bread and thanked me.
We sat together under the roof of the bridge, watching the rain grow heavier. Amidst the sound of horns and the roar of water, I realized something—sometimes, a small act of kindness in the midst of the city’s hustle and bustle can be a ray of warmth for someone in need.
And that morning, the overpass was not only a shelter from the rain, but also a place where two strangers shared a little happiness.