From my place inside the train, I saw an old man, wrinkled and frail, standing in the rain. And I wondered who he was and where he lived and who he loved and what he would say to me if I could call to him by name. “My name is Joseph,” he said, soft and low. “The rest doesn’t matter and disappeared long ago. I’m here because I felt your eyes and heard your thoughts and felt that we should meet.”

“Please sit down,” I said. “My name is ...” “Pete,” he smiled, sliding into the empty seat. “But how could you know that?” I asked. “Lucky guess,” he laughed. “Nothing more, nothing less.” With that, he closed his eyes and seemed to be asleep, and it wasn’t until I decided to leave that he spoke again. “My name is Joseph,” he said, gazing into my eyes, “and I’ve watched you watching me wherever I go. I felt that it was time for you to know the answers to all that you seek.”