One evening in Athens, I handed a woman a sandwich and a juice box. She accepted the food, but pushed the drink back.

Our guide helped me understand: she wanted a red juice box. All I had left were blue ones.

I found myself wondering why she couldn’t just be grateful.

Back at the apartment, I told the team what had happened. Amanda listened.

“Brent… she wanted a red juice box.”

She had to say it twice. This woman had preferences. Wants. A life of her own. I had offered her something to drink, but I hadn’t really seen her.

I met John during an evening walk in Athens. While the group continued, I sat beside him and talked.

The next evening, I went back. This time, we stayed together longer. He told me about his life, his daughter, and the bench he called his office.

As I was leaving, I told John to take care of himself.

“Brent, the problem isn’t taking care of myself. The problem is loneliness.”

Thousands of people could pass him every day. I was beginning to understand what it meant to stop.