I’ll never forget the first time I saw him. He walked in and asked me if I sold coffee. He had blood on this collar and sleeve, and his leather jacket indicated that he’d been apart of some sort of traumatic event, a fight maybe. You don’t expect that sort of thing at 1am on a Wednesday, I’ll never forget it. Especially seeing know we all know what happened.
Anyways, I said yes, and for some reason, I didn’t think twice as I answered – I just sensed I didn’t need to say anything else – it just didn’t seem necessary. And as he heard me, he just turned around and walked quite slowly to a table opposite me and sat down. I think he was really tired – any coffee would do.
I don’t think I’ll ever forget that scene.
I made a cup of black coffee and brought it to him, and I couldn’t but help sit down opposite him as I slid the rattling saucer over to him. “What happened to you, mister?”