A story of Apple Pie and Whipped Cream

a.k.a. it is better to practice a little kindness than talk a lot.

She saw him from across the room, sipping slowly on his freshly brewed cup of nothing, trying his best to go unnoticed and fill the emptiness inside of him with his cup of nothingness. He’d been coming there for months, at first alone, just to people watch, with nothing more than a book to keep him company. He’d had a certain quiet confidence about him, always friendly, but not big on conversation. What had stood out about him was his kind eyes and his gentle manner.

She had tried many times to pry into the pages of his very private demeanour, while serving him his regular warm brew with a fry up, but all she ever got in return to her questioning looks was a polite ‘thank you’. She knew how he liked his coffee, knew that he liked his eggs sunny-side-up and that he always asked for extra cream with his Apple pie.

Then one glorious Summer day he had showed up for his regular breakfast, but this time he was not alone. He was accompanied by a beautiful brunette with scarlet lips and a overwhelming laughter. He ordered his regular, while she placed an order for a skinny latte and some fresh whole-wheat crumpets. They sat there, the two of them, the picture of young love, all giddy and brimming over with happiness and all the while she would talk and he would nod and listen.

They kept coming back together for weeks and weeks until the trees had been stripped bare of all their leaves and the air grew chilly. One grey morning he came in for his usual accompanied by loneliness and heartache. He ordered his regular and sat by the window. The people on the street were of no interest to him, neither was the book resting on the table beside him.

She noticed he’d lost a bit of his light and his eyes no longer shone as brightly. On this particular day though, she had no need to pry as to the reason for his lack of luster. She, who was never at a loss for words, on this particular day could not find the words. So instead she served him his regular fry up with a cup of brew and watched him move his food around his plate. Once she’d cleared away his barely eaten breakfast, she brought him his Apple Pie with three extra helpings of cream, because sometimes there are no words and all you have to give is whipped cream.

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