I’ve been thinking a lot about the past lately. Retirement is… a strange thing. All this time, all these years, I was "Mr. Smith from Accounting" or "the one who handles the projections." Now I’m just… me. And I don’t know who that is. The days stretch out, and I find myself replaying things, moments I barely noticed back then, but they feel HUGE now. There was this young man, just a kid really, came over from… well, it was a country a long way off. He started in the mailroom, I think. Early twenties, maybe twenty-five at the time. I remember he had this… eagerness about him. Always trying, always smiling even when he was clearly struggling. His English wasn't the best, not at first. We’d try to talk sometimes, just quick things at the water cooler. "How are you?" "Good, thank you, Mr. Smith." He’d ask about my weekend, and I’d give him a quick answer, then rush off. I told myself it was because I was BUSY. Always busy. Projects, deadlines, you know how it is. He lived near me for a while, I found out later. Just a few blocks away. I saw him on the bus once, heading to work. He looked so tired, but still that little nod, that half-smile. I think… I think he was trying to make friends. He had a few people he connected with at first, other new folks, but they seemed to drift away. Different shifts, different departments. I saw him less and less. He moved into a different role eventually, something more technical, and I barely saw him after that. Didn’t even know his name anymore, really. Just "that young man." And now… now I’m retired, and I have ALL the time in the world, and I keep thinking about him. What if I had just… stopped for a minute? Invited him for a coffee after work, just once? It feels like such a small thing, but now it feels like a HUGE missed opportunity. Like I failed to see a person right in front of me. And I wonder if he remembers the old guy from accounting who was always too busy to properly say hello. I was there, but I wasn't PRESENT. And now… now I’m not even there at all.