A weary woman with a baby and large bag boarded the tram, looking exhausted. No one offered a seat, so I gave her mine despite my aching back. She gave me an odd look but said nothing. As the tram moved, she held her baby close, whispering to soothe it. At her stop, she glanced at me again before leaving.
Later, I found a damp bundle in my bag. Inside was a note: “Thank you for your kindness. This charm, from my grandmother, is for protection. May it keep you and your baby safe.” The dampness was from raindrops on the cloth, which held a hand-carved wooden figure of a mother and child.
Her strange looks suddenly made sense—she was overwhelmed, wanting to express gratitude. Holding the charm close, I whispered a promise to my unborn child: to always choose compassion, even in an indifferent world.
**Word count: 136**
