At 5:45 a.m., the school bus was empty — except for the wet footprints leading from seat thirteen. Hank Carter, a 57-year-old bus driver, stood there staring at them. The smell of cold, damp clothes hit him, the kind he remembered from his own childhood. The next day, he came back early with a small brown paper bag — granola bar, milk box, socks, hand warmers. He taped a note on it: “For whoever needs it. No questions.” He left it on seat thirteen and drove his route like nothing happened. By th