"M'am, no m'am!  You can't follow that man!" the officer shouted; but it was too late.  The mother of the newly found child hurried to Samuel and Lisa; she didn't know any name to call him, so she roughly caught his shoulders and forced his reaction.  Samuel turned; not knowing quite what to do and what to say (and recognizing the features of this woman were also present in the child he just saw in a vision), he inquired, "Can I help you?"<br/><br/>The woman began crying profusely; a deep red began covering her eyes and face and all attempts at an elated smile gave way to even more tears.  She suddenly grabbed Samuel, pulled him close, and lavished a large hug on him and would not let him go.  "Thank you; thank you.  You're the man; I know you are, I saw you go in there this morning.  I can't thank you enough.  Please wait here for my husband, he wants to thank you too."  Sam's reactions were mixed; her hug felt so good to him, he felt like he finally did something to make a difference in someone's life.  But his hands were awkward; he didn't know if he should hug her back, if he should say something meaningful.  He had a chance to connect with someone on a one on one basis; he didn't have to be the poor neglected and abused child.<br/><br/>But then, he realized - he didn't deserve this.  Why should anyone come up to him and hug him or even thank him; maybe he would do something bad tomorrow.  Maybe he did something bad yesterday.  Did he really think one good act could undo all the hurt and pains of the world?  While he was tempted to reciprocate in some way and even comply with her wishes, instead he began squirming insisting she loosen her grip.  The officer realized Samuel's desire and helped pull the tearful, yet happy woman off of him.<br/><br/>Samuel tried to articulate, "So sorry ... so sorry ... I have to ... I won't forget ... I wish I could ... I can't ... I have to go.  I have to go."  He turned away and started advancing to the exit.<br/><br/>Yet, when he and Lisa had walked out of the station, he hesitated and momentarily, Samuel stopped and turned around.  He looked at the mother through the glass doors; he raised his hand gently waving in acknowledgement; she seemed to wave back, but he did not wait for any further reaction nor did he allow his eyes to meet hers.  Then he put his head down and quickly shuffled to the car.  It was drizzling lightly.<br/><br/>Lisa got in the driver's side; after positioning himself in the back seat, he rested his right elbow on the arm rest of the seat and gently held the side of his head up with his hand.  He was silent; he struggled.  Lisa was a decent driver, though he didn't always like her taste in music on the radio station.  Occasionally, he would ask for her to turn the volume down, but today he hardly noticed it.  How could he communicate to Lisa that he felt both joy and pain; happiness and sadness.  His mother never cared; either he was happy or sad.  If he was happy, he was supposed to keep his mouth shut, there was nothing to complain about.  If he was sad, he was to wait in his room until his Mom came around to dump on him all her problems and then expect solutions.  And displays of natural family affections?  Unheard of; those affections were being wasted on other people who weren't even family members.<br/><br/>"Lisa, I feel ... I'm sorry ... I mean, my heart has ... no, no, I don't think I mean that.  Did I tell you that you look ... you know ... no, no I shouldn't say that.  Umm ... you know the mother back at the station, she ... oh ... just forget it!  I can't formulate my thoughts."  But that was a lie; he could formulate any thoughts he wanted and it was perfectly clear to him.  It was the articulation he struggled with.  He just tried to word it in such a way that he would not get rejected if what he said came out wrong.<br/><br/>Abruptly he turned to Lisa.  "You drive too fast."