Sonder

A man strolls into a coffee shop alone, taking a seat in the quiet back corner.

That man is me and this was no random coffee shop. Or maybe it was, being that it sells books, records, comics, and coffee. If you’re into pinball they have that too. 

When I come here though, I never buy a single thing. Sitting in the back quiet corner reading a book of my own is all I had ever come here for ever since I was 10 years old. 

Today my corner was not so quiet. Today, there was a couple arguing about nonsense, an aspiring writer tip tapping away on a keyboard, and an oddly dressed girl slurping up noodles while reading a self-help book. Her book looked different than mine and even though I indicated I was interested in asking about it by staring, she did not say anything to me. 

Staring at the arguing couple also was ignored. Thinking maybe if I made eye contact, they might realize this was no place to argue.

The man writing away on his keyboard was no different. As if what he is writing could be any more inquisitive than the scene before him. 

“It's astonishing to me how people can assemble together to share a unique and unordinary space only to completely ignore each other.” I state aloud. No one even gives me a glance. “I remember a time when people used to talk to me.”

“I don’t think this is really a place where people come to talk to strangers. Maybe you’re looking for the tavern down the street?” The girl arguing with her boyfriend takes a break from their disagreement to acknowledge me and suddenly everyone else tilts their heads towards me in wait for a response.

“That’s a fair point. I couldn’t agree more but today, right here in this very moment, is our opportunity to change that. Unless of course your only purpose to be here today, is to quarrel with your significant other?” I advance bluntly as I soak up the attention. “I’ve been around for a long time you know, I’ve seen tremendous ugly, and I’ve seen unforgettable beauty.”

“Where do you find the beauty in your life?” The writer joins the conversation in a most philosophical way. Everyone is still watching me. Suddenly I’m the most interesting thing to happen to them all day. It might be the untucked business suite I’m wearing. Maybe they think of me as a rich corporate CEO. I’ve been working on Wall Street, and I came here to quietly repent from a life of crime. My older age might have them thinking I’m a father and perhaps I’ve cheated on my wife, finally caught, this coffee shop is all I have now. Perhaps they’re right.

“The beauty in life is something we all must pay for. No?”

“I believe the best things in life are free.” The girl eating noodles takes her last bite and patiently awaits my response once more.

“Of course, because that's what your parents tell you as a kid, but what makes me happiest is never free. For example, you’re reading this self-help book to try and find a way to be happier but that wasn’t free. The food you comfort eat while reading isn't free. Or an author is only happy when he sells his book even though he could let people read it for free.” Next, I turn to the couple that was previously arguing. “Any argument is easily settled with a vacation and gifts.” 

Finally, everyone is quiet. The complete silence I came looking for is back and the people around me all seem to be in their own minds, but there’s one last thing I want to say to them. “When I was young there was a strange man who used to hang around my neighborhood. Everyone on the block felt bad for him thinking he must be homeless or had problems in the head. This man would stumble up and down our street for hours on end, as if he had lost his way. What my neighbors never realized was that he was walking with purpose and a sense of completion. Undisturbed by lifes conventional struggles, maybe he knew something people like us would never fathom. I did not feel bad for him. I was the only one to see just how happy he really was and yes, he did pay for that happiness. He...”

“He’s sitting in that back corner.” Looking over I see the arguing boyfriend pointing his finger at me to the coffee shop attendant. Just like that everyone is back to noise again.

“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to leave again. Next time I’ll call the cops.” The attendant looks at me sternly and then looks back to the boyfriend. “Sorry, we’ve been having problems with this guy all day. Every time we kick him out, he sneaks back in.”

“It’s fine, it just seems like he is drugged out or something. He’s been mumbling to himself in this corner for like thirty minutes.” The boyfriend acts if he wasn’t just captivated by my knowledge.

“Probably.” A look of curiosity and sonder passes through the attendant's face. As both men stare at me, I choose to give no response, but the attendant continues, speaking to me this time.

“Sir, if I send you out with a coffee on the house, do you think you could stop sneaking in here for the day?” For the last time today, I have everyone's attention once more. I take the time to consider what to say. Do I leave them with one last piece of advice? Do I use my presence to try and bargain for more? Do I really want to leave my new favorite spot? 

I’ve come to a decision. Looking up to the gawking eyes before me I respond, “Yes.”

A man strolls out of a coffee shop alone. That man is me.

The End.