Picture this situation: a crowded subway tunnel just before peak hour begins. Corporate types busily rushing to and from the station, each intent on their individual final destinations. Suddenly a harried-looking woman with an armful of folders and papers trips on her heels. Everything she has been holding spills out on the ground in front of her, in dire risk of being trodden on many times over. She kneels down and struggles to gather all the loose-leaf papers and miscellaneous pieces. Who comes to her aid? Is it:

a) The slim, briskly walking businesswoman dressed in a sensibly monochromatic suit, not a highlighted hair out of place and makeup immaculately applied,

b) The elderly man, head covered with thinning grey and face full of laugh lines, wearing ironed brown pants and an argyle vest resting neatly over his substantial paunch,

c) The pale, slouching youth dressed head to toe in black, in a baggy T-shirt bearing a skull and crossbones motif and numerous silver chains snaking in and out of various pant pockets, or

d) None of the above – all three just walk on past, leaving the woman to fend for herself?

If you guessed a, b, c or d, you were wrong. The answer? The businesswoman, the elderly man and the slouching youth. As soon as the crash of the folders hitting the floor resonates down the tunnel, they are there on the floor with her, working together to pick up all the far-flung items and handing it back to their owner. When all the dropped articles have been recovered, they leave with a smile and a ‘no problem’, just three kindly souls meeting by a chance of fate.

And okay, I know how corny and contrived the whole scenario sounds, but it really did happen, even though I’ve never expected it to either. It’s these little things, these seemingly insignificant gestures of compassion for the fellow being that warm my heart and restore my faith in humanity.

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