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.
“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 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.
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.