Five of us stand at an Austin, TX bus stop. One in a hurry and waiting for the bus. The rest of us keeping him company and following the bus home on foot.

A stranger walks close - but not too close - and stops. And tries to get our attention. He's skinny, a little disheveled, and black.

We notice. And pretend not to.

He keeps trying.

We keep pretending.

Until he steps a little closer.

And we turn - hard, suspicious, sympathetic, polite, uncomfortable - and acknowledge him.

He asks for the time.

And we see ourselves, see what we've just done. And we force embarrassed smiles. And we tell him.

He says thank you and steps away to wait for his bus.

A bus approaches. And the four of us that aren't taking it realize we don't know exactly how to walk where we're walking. So we scramble, asking our bus-boarding friend - the only local among us - for directions. He does the best he can, but the bus wants to leave, and he has to leave with it.

And he's gone. And we're still a little confused. But we know we need to go north. So we start walking. And we pass the man without a clock.

And he gets our attention again. And tells us exactly how to get where we're going. And smiles.

And we thank him. And feel like crying.

I'll remember him - and wish I could thank him again - every time I ever forgive anyone for anything.