When the shock passed, the biker asked Richard where he was headed. “To the pharmacy,” Richard said. “I come here every Tuesday.”
The biker nodded. “That intersection’s dangerous. How about I meet you here on Tuesdays and walk you across?”
Richard had thought it was just polite talk. But the next Tuesday, he showed up. And every Tuesday since.
When I asked why, the biker hesitated. His voice dropped to a whisper. “My little brother was blind,” he said. “Retinitis pigmentosa. Lost his sight at nineteen. Toughest kid I ever knew.”
He paused, swallowing hard. “Six years ago, he got hit by a car crossing a street. The driver ran a red light. He died instantly. I wasn’t there.”
Richard’s lip trembled. Amy started crying.
The biker went on, his voice shaking. “When I saw Richard step into that road… it was like watching it happen all over again. But this time, I could do something. This time, I could save him.”
He rubbed his hands together, staring at the floor. “I can’t bring my brother back. But I can honor him by helping someone else who can’t see. Every Tuesday. That’s all it is.”
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