My head throbbed, and I quickly realized that my phone and money were gone. I was left in my dirty clothes, feeling completely helpless.

Panic set in as I looked around. People were starting their day, but no one seemed to notice me. I tried to speak to passersby, but my voice came out shaky and desperate.

“Please help! Anybody!? Call the police!” I shouted, hoping someone would understand.

But nobody did. They all glanced at me briefly before hurrying on their way, looking at me like I was homeless or worse.

The language barrier was like a wall between me and any potential help. I felt a wave of hopelessness wash over me, and tears began to well up in my eyes.

Just when I thought things couldn’t get any worse, a tall man approached me. He had a kind face and wore an apron, suggesting he worked at a nearby restaurant. He spoke to me in Spanish, and his words were rapid and hard to follow. I shook my head, trying to convey that I didn’t understand.

He seemed to realize the problem and switched to broken English. “You… need help?” he asked, his voice gentle.

“Yes, please,” I replied, my voice trembling. “I don’t have my phone or money. I don’t know what to do.”

He nodded, his expression sympathetic. “Come… with me,” he said, gesturing for me to follow him. “I… Miguel.”

“Lily,” I said, trying to manage a weak smile. I followed Miguel to a small, cozy restaurant just down the street. The aroma of freshly baked bread and coffee filled the air, momentarily distracting me from my fear.

Miguel led me to a back room, where he handed me some clothes – a simple dress and a pair of shoes. “You… change,” he said, pointing to a small restroom.

I nodded gratefully. “Thank you, Miguel.”

I changed into clean clothes inside the restroom, feeling a little more human. I splashed some water on my face and looked at my reflection in the mirror. Despite the situation, I felt a flicker of hope. Miguel’s kindness was like a lifeline.