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June 4, 2018
‘This is terrible,’ she said. ‘I’ve come out without my umbrella.’ An emotional puddle threatened to fall as she jigged about in the doorway, tears shining in her eyes.
We were standing on the library steps, streetlights shining on the wet pavers with winter and the shortest day fallen around us. I felt none of her gloom and despair. With a plastic raincoat and handknitted scarf, nestled in a cocoon of warmth, I was shielded from her terror and the island of grief she was raising. The sympathy she was seeking did not come from me as I walked away.