Morning Acquaintances

She had always seen him there. From the moment she had moved into the neighborhood.

At first she used to see him alone. Sitting out in the open air, enjoying the mornings. Appearing to not have a care in the world. He'd usually beat her to the park. Fresh coffee in hand, slowly waking up with the still rising sun. Sometimes he's stroll around the block a few times before taking a seat, other times he'd make his way over directly. Always taking the same metal chair - looking out into the street. Depending on the day, he'd have a book, usually a work of fiction, maybe even a magazine - although most mornings he seemed more than content with watching the people passing by in front of him. She was pleased to find someone else with a routine like her's. She was new to the block and was comforted by getting to know a neighbor - even from a couple meters away.

Even though he tried to carry himself with a certain level of energy, she could see right through his facade. It was a skill she had always been gifted with since she was a child - something her mother was amazed by. She could tell he was unhappy. In the way he arched his back - trying to overcompensate and hold his shoulders too high. She could see it behind his eyes. Even though his smile seemed to shine, something behind his eyes was empty. But she could tell he was fighting against it - pushing through. Something was missing.

She felt like over the past couple of weeks she had gotten to know him, feel him out - really get a sense for who he was. And she was embarrassed she couldn't figure it out. That was, until he showed up one morning with company. A lovely woman. His age, same color hair, slightly shorter. Everything about her oozed elegance. How she carried herself, the sparkle in her eyes, the way she wrapped her hand around her coffee mug. She was mature, sweet. She made him happy. And it made her happy. His eyes were no longer empty. For the first time she could finally see something residing behind them - an energy, a life.

She was pleased by this new development. Not only because she finally got to see him truly happy, but she now had two people to share her mornings with.

As the year continued, so did their routines. They'd meet in the mornings at around the same time - her by herself, off to the side, usually with a newspaper and a croissant, and they would come together, taking a seat at the same table they always did - turning their chairs toward the sidewalk, watching as the city woke up around them. She didn't mind that they didn't actually speak. It was just nice having something to look forward to. She was a creature of habit and sharing a coffee was a nice way to start each morning.

So when he came alone again, she was shocked. She hadn't seen it coming. Right away she knew something was wrong. His shoulders were slumped, his eyes looked tired and drained again - no energy behind them. The way he held his coffee told the story - fingers barely touching the ceramic mug. Unattached.

She was gone.

But he wasn't. He continued on with his routine. Finding his way to the table every morning, coffee in hand, watching as people went. But it wasn't the same. He didn't just look at the people that passed in front of him - he looked through them. As if they weren't there. She could see his absence in his stare. In the way he carried himself. He just seemed deflated. Checked out from the world around him. When he did leave the table each day, he just seemed to shamble away, with no purpose, disappearing into the crowd.

Each day she wanted to go up to him. Introduce herself. Pull him out of the grey. Welcome him back to the world. But each morning she couldn't muster the courage and they'd go on their separate ways.

And then one day, when the sky finally gave into winter and the first snow fell, he was gone. As she sat there, bundled up against the cold, she waited and waited. For him to round the corner, coffee in hand, smile on his face. To walk up, brush off the layer of snow, and take a seat. Maybe nod at her, acknowledge her. But the longer she waited, the more snow piled on his chair.

As she finished her coffee and began walking away, she hoped her friend was alright. Out somewhere in the city.

Caffeinated beverage in hand.