I didn’t realize anything had changed until the quiet settled in around me at home, the city’s noise muffled by old windows and my own heavy breathing. Reaching into my coat, I expected loose change, a crumpled ticket—something forgettable. Instead, my hand closed around the locket, now cool but imprinted with the warmth of another life. Inside, the photograph of a young mother and her baby felt like a reflection slipped out of time, echoing my own shape and fear and hope. The tiny note tucked behind it told me her story: once, someone had offered her the same small mercy I’d just given, a seat and a moment of relief when she carried her child beneath her heart. That realization braided us together. I rested my palm over my belly, closed the locket, and made a quiet vow to keep that invisible chain of ordinary, saving kindness alive.