Yesterday, I encountered a blind couple in a building downtown. We were both headed for the elevator, so I let them know one was ready, held the door for them, and punched their floor number for them. While we ascended, another (sighted) woman entered the elevator. She seemed visibly upset by their white canes, by their Spanish conversation, even after they departed. It mixed like oil and water with my own observation of them, and my pride in having been helpful to them, in looking out for one another.
It hurt my heart.
I wished her good day and meant it.
