Dear Diary:
Something small but wonderful happened to me recently.
Around 2 p.m., after a photo shoot near Union Square, I boarded the L train. An older gentleman, clad in khaki and holding a cane, quietly offered me his seat. He had kind eyes. I simply smiled and took the seat. He smiled back.
We rode together and switched trains together, this time to the A express. Again, he caught my eye and saved me a seat. We rode all the way to 181st together, and parted ways with smiles. Never said a word.
Around 9 p.m., as I was walking back from dinner in darkness, I saw a glimmer of light from a building’s basement door, a few blocks from my building. Out of the door stumbled the same older gentleman, still wearing his khakis, leaning on his cane, taking trash to the curb.
We both stopped in our tracks, me holding my takeout bag, him holding his trash bag. Our eyes locked. We both gleamed. And never said a word.
Read all recent entries and our updated submissions guidelines. Reach us via email diary@nytimes.com or follow @NYTMetro on Twitter using the hashtag #MetDiary.
