A rugged-looking fella was stumbling from left to right while trying to keep his footing on the train. He'd smile almost longingly at every person he'd pass, and each one would either smile awkwardly, or look down at their phone in an attempt to avoid conversation.

As he was approaching, I noticed he had a Joy Division shirt on, so I smiled and chuckled a little as he drunkenly shuffled over. I guess he took this as a friendly invitation, as he immediately gravitated toward me and popped a squat in the seats next to mine.

We spent the next five minutes talking about his alcoholism and how he was in the process of quitting. We talked about his ginger cat Duncan and how he eats better than him. He never asked for money or tried to sell me a sob story; it was just a short, friendly exchange.

I shook his hand as he stood up to leave. Before he did he looked me in the eye, smiled and told me he wasn't ready to kill himself yet. Then he got off the train.

Needless to say, I spent the rest of the ride a little traumatized. But that man really made me appreciate just how far a little kindness can go.