Anyway, I was walking in and saw her trying to walk out. I pondered how she would be able to push the heavy door to get out since her arms were occupied. I also thought how she would be able to do it without slipping on the very slick concrete floor (it snowed the day before.)
�Pity isn�t it,� I thought to myself and began to head off to my class. Then all of the sudden I felt this great sympathy for little Miss Tiny Tim. I actually began to feel bad for her blight. Especially after seeing her try to reach for the door helplessly with one of her arms. It was like watching a dog chase his own tail but less cute. No one around her seemed to care either (I guess the holiday mood was contagious.) I don�t want to say my heart ballooned into the size of ten grinches or anything, but I really did feel for the pathetic girl trying to helplessly grasp the door handle. I sighed and decided to head back toward the door.
�Here let me give you a hand,� I said while opening up the steel door.
�Thanks,� she replied.
�Uh�no problem.�
As she made her way out she flashed a quick smile back at me�OK maybe she was a looker after all. I was soon on my way toward my next class. Was this finally a turning point in my midwestern life? Had I truly turned into what is typically called �the nice guy?� Does this mean I�ll start finishing last? You�d think so, but later that day some one cut me off on the road and I cussed for about five minutes�maybe I�m just not a holiday kind of guy.
