I was scrolling through emails on my phone one recent morning when a strange message appeared among the usual mix of advertisements and morning newsletters. It was a confirmation for an upcoming doctor’s appointment in New York City, but came from an address I’d never seen before. And at the top, there was a friendly note: “I guess this is for you :)”

The note, I would later learn, was written by a Norwegian named André Nordum whose email address is just a few letters different from my own. André, a 33-year-old banker in Oslo, had received the confirmation by mistake, thanks to my messy handwriting on an intake form.

Realizing this, he’d Googled my name to try to track down my personal email address and forward the message to me. When he couldn’t easily find my address, he correctly guessed it based on the similarity of our last names (my surname, Nordrum, is also Norwegian).

All day, I thought about André’s act of digital kindness and the heartwarming fact that a stranger had spent time and effort trying to send me a bit of important information. I also felt a twinge of guilt: I’d received emails in the past—from car dealerships and daycares—that were clearly meant for other people, and I’d never forwarded any of them along. What does that say about me as a person?