One day, I noticed something strange.
Every morning, my elderly neighbor, Mrs. Madison—who was nearly 80—arrived and left at the same time as me. Or so I thought. Then it hit me—I had never actually seen her car move.
Curiosity got the best of me, so one evening, I walked over and found her fast asleep in the driver’s seat, wrapped in a blanket. The back of her car was packed with boxes of groceries.
It didn’t make sense. She owned a big house—so why was she living out of her car?
One especially bitter night, I couldn’t ignore it any longer. No one, least of all an elderly woman, should be sleeping in the freezing cold. I invited her inside, and my wife made her a cup of hot chocolate. Once she was settled, I gently asked, “Mrs. Madison, why are you sleeping in your car?”
