:: Double shots ::

Morning:

I watched Adam make my coffee, quietly skillful, almost abashed.
I leaned over the counter on the pretext of getting a packet of sweetener, and then caught his eye: 'How's your father?' in a whisper.
He darted his eyes around us, and then: 'Not so good.'
'I'm sorry.' And I instantly hated the plastic social-speak we've been weaned on: I'm sorry? That's the closest we come to comfort?
'It's okay,' he said, the shy, coy smile I know so well back in place. I got an extra cookie to go with my poison, but the real treat was his grateful 'thanks for remembering' as I abandoned my humanity for more capitalistic pursuits in my office space upstairs.

Lunch:

Coffee Bean. The lunch crowd jostled; the shrill cries of children, snippets of conversation, the smart clicks of high heels, the clink of forks and knives against plates rose in collective symphony. I ordered my usual, and caught Tony looking pale and unhappy while packing my salad.
'Is she back?' I ventured.
He gave me a poor-man's grin, watery and sad. 'No. I'm trying to...compromise.'
'The baby okay?'
The grin gained a certain paternal strength. 'He's fine. Well, I guess he misses his mother.'
I felt a rock in my stomach; he's not even really a friend, but perhaps a stranger's kindness is easier to bear than familiar counsel.
'Don't worry Jean,' he said, handing me my salad. 'But thank you.'

***

I'm not kind by nature; I'm not one of those selfless saint-like character out of a leather-bound book; in fact, I've been told that I'm exactly the opposite, but yet. I am strangely drawn to those with secret pain in their eyes, because, perhaps, I look in the mirror and see the same in mine.

Perhaps it's all narcissistc. I'm kind because I'm desperate for kindness. It's funny how sordid humanity can be. But if I choose not to over-analyse, not to over-indulge in useless discourse, my double-shot kindness made my coffee a lot more robust than it really was.