I read this like three weeks ago, and it felt really familiar, though I couldn't remember why. But today, I figured it out! I found this assignment from when I was 16, and it seemed like a fitting addition.
It is five o’clock on a Wednesday. It’s drizzling, a rain soft enough to seem comforting had it been warmer. But, it isn’t, and in the dingy winter cold, it stings. This does not matter to the people in the café, insulated from the outside world by their expensive coffee. A low hum of hip-hop and typing fills the place. Old friends reunite, their crammed tables filled with laughter. Three small children pet a tourist’s dog. “Don’t worry,” she says. “He doesn’t bite.”
A man in a suit sits alone in the corner. He is working intently, three coffee-stained mugs piled at the edge of his table.
The bell on the door rings and a homeless woman walks in, her back hunched, hair wet from the rain. Café-goers actively avoid her gaze. She stops in the doorway, then shuffles over to the man’s table.
She says hello as he scooches back his chair.
“May I have a favor? Please?” She speaks very slowly.
He is confused.
“What do you need?”
She pauses.
“Ah.. Could you give me a hug?”
His eyes widen, as if he is just now seeing her clearly. “I’m sorry, but no.”
“Ok. Well, have a nice evening.”
By now, everyone has dropped the pretense of ignoring her, conversations stilled. She turns away, head lowering as she walks out the door.
“Seattle, huh,” he chuckles, smile strained, and an anxious laugh echoes from nearby tables.
I read this like three weeks ago, and it felt really familiar, though I couldn't remember why. But today, I figured it out! I found this assignment from when I was 16, and it seemed like a fitting addition.
It is five o’clock on a Wednesday. It’s drizzling, a rain soft enough to seem comforting had it been warmer. But, it isn’t, and in the dingy winter cold, it stings. This does not matter to the people in the café, insulated from the outside world by their expensive coffee. A low hum of hip-hop and typing fills the place. Old friends reunite, their crammed tables filled with laughter. Three small children pet a tourist’s dog. “Don’t worry,” she says. “He doesn’t bite.”
A man in a suit sits alone in the corner. He is working intently, three coffee-stained mugs piled at the edge of his table.
The bell on the door rings and a homeless woman walks in, her back hunched, hair wet from the rain. Café-goers actively avoid her gaze. She stops in the doorway, then shuffles over to the man’s table.
She says hello as he scooches back his chair.
“May I have a favor? Please?” She speaks very slowly.
He is confused.
“What do you need?”
She pauses.
“Ah.. Could you give me a hug?”
His eyes widen, as if he is just now seeing her clearly. “I’m sorry, but no.”
“Ok. Well, have a nice evening.”
By now, everyone has dropped the pretense of ignoring her, conversations stilled. She turns away, head lowering as she walks out the door.
“Seattle, huh,” he chuckles, smile strained, and an anxious laugh echoes from nearby tables.
I laugh, and wish I hadn’t.