In a crowded hospital waiting room, a quiet scene unfolded that at first appeared unremarkable. Patients and visitors sat in rows of plastic chairs, each absorbed in their own concerns—some scrolling through their phones, others staring at the clock on the wall, waiting for names to be called. The air carried the usual mixture of antiseptic cleanliness and quiet anxiety that defines such places.
In one corner of the room, an elderly woman sat alone on a hard bench. She held an old brown bag tightly in her lap, gripping it with both hands as if it contained something deeply important. Her clothing was modest and worn: a thin coat that offered little protection against the…
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