At 3 o’clock in the morning, a man and his wife were jolted awake by a loud, persistent pounding on their front door. Groaning, the man reluctantly got up and went to see who it was. Standing in the pouring rain was a drunken stranger, swaying unsteadily.

“Could you give me a push?” the man slurred, water dripping off his soaked clothes.

The husband stared at him in disbelief. “Absolutely not!” he barked. “It’s three in the morning!” He slammed the door shut and stomped back to bed, muttering angrily under his breath.

“Who was that?” his wife asked, still half-asleep.

“Just some drunk guy wanting a push,” he grumbled.

“And did you help him?” she pressed.

“Help him? Of course not! It’s the middle of the night, and it’s pouring out there!”

His wife sat up, turning on the bedside lamp. “You’ve got a short memory,” she said sternly. “Don’t you remember when our car broke down three months ago? Those two kind strangers stopped to help us without hesitation. How can you refuse to do the same?”

The man sighed heavily, knowing she was right. Grumbling under his breath, he got dressed and trudged back out into the storm.

Stepping into the cold rain, he called into the darkness, “Hello? Are you still out there?”

“Yeah, I’m here!” came the faint response.

“Do you still need a push?” the man yelled.

“Yes, please!” the stranger replied eagerly.

Squinting into the gloom, the husband shouted, “Where exactly are you?”

“Over here!” the voice called back. “On the swing!”