“Excuse me, I’m so sorry!”
You’ve just bumped into someone on the street, knocking the package in her hand to the ground.
You stoop to pick it up, but you do so quickly because you’re already late.
“Here you are.” You hand the package to her. She stares at you strangely.
“Again, I’m very sorry,” you apologize. As you turn away to hurry on, she calls out.
Reluctantly, you turn back to her, glancing hurriedly at your watch. Already twenty minutes late. Your wife is going to have a cow. You’re always late.
“I’m sorry,” you apologize to the woman again. “I’m meeting my family at the museum. Feeding our son’s obsession with dinosaurs,” you chuckle. “I really have to run. My wife hates when I’m late.”
To your surprise, the woman has tears in her eyes.