I was sitting alone at a diner counter on a Sunday morning, which already tells you something about my state of mind.
I’d just moved to a new city three weeks earlier and hadn’t really talked to anyone outside of work. Not in a real way. I ordered coffee and eggs and kept my phone out like I had somewhere to be, which I didn’t. The place was loud and full of families and I was very aware of being by myself.
There was an older guy two seats down doing a crossword. At some point he leaned over, totally unprompted, and said “hey, what’s a six-letter word for ‘begin again.'” I thought about it for a second and said “renew?” He wrote it in, tried to make it fit, then shook his head. “Doesn’t work.” And then he just went back to his puzzle like nothing happened.
I’m not sure why that affected me. Maybe because he didn’t treat me like someone who needed cheering up. He just pulled me into his morning for about thirty seconds, as if it were completely ordinary. Like I was just a person at a diner, same as him.
I left an unusually generous tip and walked home feeling weirdly okay. The city felt a little less big than it did when I walked in.