“Are you in school?” He asked.
I looked up from my small table in the corner of a Caribou Coffee shop.
“What?” I replied confused.
“Are you in college?” He asked again.
He stood there. Looming.
“No,'' I smiled unsure why I was smiling.
Then he turned and walked away. No expression.
College? My God, I could technically move to the Villages in Florida in a few years.
I come to this coffee shop every Saturday morning. I don’t talk to anybody. Well, I take that back. I talk to the manager who is a cool dude with dreadlocks. Much cooler than me. I challenge myself to talk to him in an effort to become friends. As practice. Socializing, ya know.
The manager, Kenny, always remembers my coffee order and seems to recognize me each time so I think we are friends. Feels good.
I am shocked the other man talked to me this morning. He never talks to anybody. I never talk to anybody. Two talkless dudes in a coffee shop.
Lately, I have been yearning for a sense of community. Hell, I wrote a book about love and connection. Imagine that. So, I try to go to the same coffee shops on repeat.
I see him here every time. He walks with a cane and is always hunched over. Permanently hunched I guess. A taller guy, with an athletic frame, sneakers, and a T-shirt. He gets a coffee, sits down, and reads a book.
When he reads he traces the sentences in the book with his finger. His hands shake. He hardly ever looks up. An older black man. Probably 60 or 70 who walks slow. I just know he has a story. A great story I bet.
I have never said anything to him and he has never said anything to me. Until today.
I wonder why he decided to talk to me today. I also wonder why I have never talked to him before.
Now he is gone.
I am going to talk to him next time.
Trey