Starbucks Snippet

Wednesday 12/17
4:55pm

Sitting at Starbucks after work.

My computer and my phone are both dead. I tried to charge them both to no avail.

Two girls sit by me and talk smack about what seems like everyone they know. My headphones are in, so they don’t think I heard them talking about their period.

On the surface, my initial response to my technological difficulties was a little frantic. Anxious, even.
I can’t get my work done. What if someone tries to contact me? Should I leave?

But deep down, my soul likes this. I’m disconnected. I’m OK with that. Solitude.

What if I had my phone charged? What if someone tries to contact me?

The anxiousness returns.

Affected.

12.2.2014

11:45a.m. Starbucks. It’s cold outside. Training day. A nice reprieve from work.

I sit and eat my overpriced sandwich and fruit. Black coffee. I read. Another Bullsh*t Night in Suck City. A Memoir. A man walks in. A drifter. Clearly homeless. Greased hair. Untrimmed beard. Beanie. Long underwear. A coat. Weathered face. Bright eyes.

He sits on a comfy chair. Mumbles indistinguishable words. They could have been more distinguishable if my headphones were not in my ears. My attempt at tuning out the world.

He sits. I notice. I do nothing. I could buy him something to eat. A warm drink. Talk to him. Make him feel human. Value his humanity despite his appearance. We are the same.

He gets up. Bends over—squats—in front of the sandwiches. He fills his coat pockets. Stuffs them. People stare. He shuffles out. People murmur. Flag down an employee.

Minutes pass.

I feel regret.
I didn’t help him.
I prayed this morning. Prayed that I would honor God today.
I remembered too late.

He walks back in. Cops are called. He goes to the restroom. Santa Claus suit. Maybe his mind isn’t right.

He leaves in costume. Cops come. They chase him. People murmur. People stare. Some laugh. I regret. I’m affected. Never again. It won’t happen again.