a Strange Encounter

I took a different route home for the sole reason of exploring.  After enjoying the heat, wind, and view enough, I started for home via the train tunnel.  

I slowed down considerably as there were crowds crossing through.  A few bikers swerved at the exit to go around 2 big suitcases and a woman standing in the exit.  I was in no rush, so swung off my bike to offer help.

She was an older woman, with wispy curly blonde hair and watery eyes, very short and very round.  An elderly gentleman hopped off his bicycle just behind me.  I took the biggest suitcase (I hadn't seen the handles were broken), as the gentleman started for the roller carry-on.  She awkwardly scrambled to take her multicolored purse off of the suitcase.  Then she started walking out of the tunnel.  With a quick glance at the gentleman, we followed.  The only thing she said was 'citibank.'

The older woman was waddling away with her multicolored purse, and the old man with the roller, his bike and helmet, and I, left clambering up in the rear with my bike, helmet, and fatty-no-handle-suitcase.  through classy down-town Palo Alto.  It was a sight.

"Citibank is on University" ... 'this is University,' I assured her... but we still crossed the street a few extra times before we found citibank.  All this while, my friend (the gentleman) and I kept glancing at each other, commenting on everything with facial expressions.

Once at Citibank, we were still confused as to where she was staying.  I stumbled in with my bike in tow when my friend offered so graciously, "I don't live too far from here, and I could bring down a vehicle to take you to a hotel or anything-"

to which she answered "actually, I do need to go to Wallgreens, and a Burger King or something like that to eat."  We set down her suitcases by a chair in the vacant Citibank when she said, "Well, should I wait here?"

I felt so much for my friend as we came out, both hoping she had a place to stay and thanking each other for our help.  I kept stammering about his generosity as he left me absorbed in my thoughts for the ride home.

Was he really going to come back and take her to dinner?  with no thanks?  How much would she trespass on my friend?  What was she doing here? in Palo Alto?  how did she even get her luggage off of the train?  does she know anyone here?  why did she have to go to Citibank?  Was she running away?  Was she a grand duchess, used to being served?  was she going to sleep on the marble floor?  is she here doing background checks?  did she sneak out of a nursing home in San Fran?  is she connected to the walker Grams found in NYC outside the convent? 

my arm hurts.