I'm strolling through the mall, gazing into the shops as I pass, the heels of my shoes clicking on the shiny floor tiles. I walk past an old man sitting alone at a table. A shaft of sunlight shines down from a window above, bathing him in brightness. It's as if he's sitting onstage in a spotlight, his shock of hair gleaming white. I give him a sideways glance as I pass. He looks up at me, but I avert my eyes. And then immediately I wonder why I avoided his gaze. He looks kind, and a bit lonely. Or maybe just bored.

I soon head back the way I came, and I decide that if the man is still sitting there, I will smile. Just to acknowledge him. After all, he is not anonymous, not an archetype, not The Old Man in a play. He is a person with a soul.

I soon see that he is still sitting at the table, still in the spotlight. He is looking down, his nose buried in a handkerchief. I doubt he will even look up, but when I walk by he raises his eyes to meet mine.

I smile, and he responds with a wink.

His timing is so impeccable, it seems we'd rehearsed it. As I walk on, my smile widens, and I suspect this exchange brightened my day even more than it did his.