It was a cold winter morning. Half asleep at the train station, I stared into the distance,1for the train to take me to my2in Boston. The world was quiet. The very few people on the street kept to themselves,3 their steaming cups of coffee. Reaching into my pocket as the4was approaching, my numb hand searched for the $20 bill to pay my fare. The pocket was5! I searched through my bag and then I felt6. Unless the money dropped from the sky, I'd be7there. "What' s the matter?" A short, elderly man stood before me. "Oh, nothing...Well, I8my money and now I can't pay for the ticket. I'm going to9my match class, and the train is leaving." "Here, use this." The man held a $20 bill. I looked up,10. People just didn't do that anymore. Everyone worried about their own11, rarely stopping to think about others, especially teenage strangers. "Thank you, but no, I can't." "12it-go!" The man pushed me13the train. I bought a round-trip ticket, and he refused the change I14 to give him back. I did not know what to say-a million thoughts raced through my mind, yet I stood15. For the train ride I was silent. I began to see the world through16eyes. That man made a difference with such a simple17. A week later I was at the train station again, with an extra $2018I saw the man. And there he was. "Excuse me, sir, I believe I owe you this." I19the money into his hand. Failing to refuse, he said, "Just remember to do the same for someone in your shoes someday." I smiled, content. The elderly man is my hero. For many, heroes are famous, but my hero is a20stranger who taught me a lesson in life. I will never forget his kindness. |