Spotting a hooker on a city street corner isn't an abnormal thing.
Me bringing one home? Well, that's a first.
But this girl . . . she's in trouble. And the guy she's talking to isn't someone she wants to go home with.
So I do the exact thing I shouldn't--I offer to bring her home with me instead.
She says this is the first time she's ever done this, which is adorably ironic. Then she proceeds to tell me a sob story about needing money to care for the baby who was left on her doorstep. That's when my stomach starts to clench. I think she may be telling the truth.
So I do what any respectable man would do. I take her home, stopping to pick up diapers and formula on the way, and discover that she was telling the truth all along.
Christ on a cracker.
I should have just kept walking.
I should have done a thousand other things except for barge into her sad life, offer to fix everything, fall for her . . .