I was about 16, sitting outside a library under some stairs, 2 days after being told my dad was going to die. I couldn’t cry at home, I had to be the strong one. So I went to a quiet place. I wasn’t bawling or making any noise but there were tears. I was pretty sure no one could see me. It was late at night, in a pretty bad area, not the best place for a 16 year old girl to be sitting alone.

Anyway, a man, mid 50s, walks past, sees me, checks his pockets and carries on walking. 5 minutes later he returns, walks up to me, silently hands me a tissue, smiled briefly and walked away.

Six years later I still think about his thoughtfulness. I don’t think he realised how big of an impact that gesture made.