That winter morning, Fifth Avenue was bitterly cold. Wind slipped through my coat and stung my skin as I hurried toward my office. Near the entrance, a woman sat against the marble wall wearing only a thin sweater, her hands trembling in the freezing air while people walked past without looking. I reached into my pockets to offer spare change—but found nothing. As I turned to leave, something stopped me. She had almost nothing, and I had layers. Before I could rethink it, I removed my jacket and handed it to her. Shocked, she accepted, her cold fingers brushing mine....
Continues…