I looked up at the woman who had tapped me. She was tall, slim and beautiful. At first glance, I didn't need anyone to tell me her age as she was in her early fifties; ten years frame from my 43 years old mother. I gazed at her brown eyes which were locked in my black. She was on a pair of blue jeans like me but wore a mismatched shirt and scarf which was draped around her neck. Although she was beautiful, she looked rather ordinary. "Yes, ma'am," I said looking at her. "Are you alright?" she asked. I think she's worried. "Yes," I answered. "Okay, but you don't look good. Is something the problem?" "No, I'm fine," I answered uninterestedly in speaking out."You're crying and you say you're fine? You don't have to feel alone. Why are you sitting here? It's okay! You can talk to me." she said and I didn't utter a single word."You don't need to feel ashamed. I see you have a bag! Do you have where to stay? Are you homeless? Were you kicked out?" she said and yet I didn't reply. In
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