Don’t Ignore Me!
I used to pull in late from night shifts, often arriving home by 5 in the morning. When I got back, I found a man screaming for assistance since his mother wasn’t responding—he lived in the same peaceful area as I do, making his loud cries for help unusual.
The chap making a racket was somewhat intellectually impaired and visibly agitated. I stepped out of my vehicle and, without taking notice of his pleas, headed straight to my cozy bed. I still rue that decision of ignoring the distressed man.