An Ode to the Kind Stranger at the Café

Photo by Ksenia Chernaya on Pexels

A bitter argument.

A door slam.

An empty apartment. A heavy heart.

Tears. Surplus tears.

Misery spanning the entire morning and half of afternoon.

No breakfast, no lunch; hunger killed by words as sharp as a knife.

Hunger killed by somatic brashness.

Soul crushing, sky falling, world burning.

It feels like death – this beginning of the end.

Death of a person still very much alive.

Death of a marriage.

Death of love.

I push myself up. Wiping away tears.

I head outdoors.

I walk aimlessly, like a lost soul.

I see a small café.

Self-care beckons.

I should eat something.

An order placed with gloom. Face full of despair.

Eyes down. Gaze lowered. No strength to face anyone.

No strength to smile.

A cup of coffee and a sandwich.

The order arrives.

I lift my gaze. It makes me smile.

The coffee has something drawn on top.

A heart.

A beautiful little heart.

Intrigued, I look at other cups around me.

No, this one is just for me.

In a sea of deep, numbing pain, it felt like a wave of comfort.

A compassionate message.

A comforting hug.

I look around for the waiter.

I spot him. At a corner.

Working but eyes fixed on me.

He smiles compassionately.

I smile back.

Warmth.

A sign that the world is not so bad after all.

A sign that I’ll be okay – even if it’s the beginning of the end.

Context: The magic of kindness. A stranger I’ve never met before provided me hope on the most hopeless of days. I never met him after that. The incident happened years ago, but I still think of it fondly. I feel a cocktail of emotions whenever I flashback to that moment in the café. It still makes me teary-eyed. It still makes me smile.