I opened the car door, tossed my bag in
I was just about to slip inside when
An older man, 60 I might guess
limping down the sidewalk paused to ask:

"St. Mary's Hospital?"

My head snapped up
"What?" I asked.

"St. Mary's Hospital.  Is it this way?"

I frowned
"Yes," I replied.

"Do you know how much farther?"

"About half a mile.  Why?"

He raised his hand up, wrapped in white
red stain seeping through

My breath caught

"I've cut my finger, and I think I may need stitches."
Then he turned and limped away

"Wait," I called.  "Are you sure you'll be alright?"

He nodded, hardly turning around.

I asked again, "Are you sure?"
Should I offer him a ride?
It's only a minute out of my way.

He didn't turn or nod then, just continued on
His steps were slow, erratic, but determined
Should I offer him a ride?
I watched his back recede

Should I offer him a ride?

I could no longer hear his shuffling feet

Should I offer him a ride?

Should I offer him a ride?

I didn't.  I got in my car and left.  And cried.  
Because I wouldn't offer an old hurt man a ride.