Moments of Unexpected Kindness

Yesterday was gro­cery day.

I looked out the win­dow, and it was rain­ing. “You can’t wait for the per­fect oppor­tu­ni­ty for­ev­er”, I told myself, so I grabbed my toque, my hood­ie, my jack­et, and stepped out­side.

The rain was­n’t heavy, but enough to soak through in a cou­ple min­utes.

On my way to the store, I thought of putting an ad in the clas­si­fieds.

WANTED: RAIN DANCER

Looking for cheer­ful mod­el to dance in rain for pho­to project.

Should be slim build. Light-brunette to blond hair, no longer than shoul­ders. Bring own clothes, short-sleeved with no logo pre­ferred.

Will offer dig­i­tal neg­a­tives for port­fo­lio as com­pen­sa­tion.

It was a short walk.

At the deli counter was the reg­u­lar bunch of hooli­gans, a group of unmo­ti­vat­ed, lack­adaisi­cal guys with whom I’ve dealt many times before.

I was about to say some­thing to get their atten­tion when anoth­er young man (whom I ini­tial­ly assumed was part of this group, with the same facial hair and the same mug), walked up to greet me.

Barbecue chick­en?”, he asked.

Please”.

I stood there wait­ing for less than a moment before he came around the counter with some­thing in his hand.

Wipe your glass­es off with this shit”, he told me, and see­ing the beads of rain­wa­ter on my glass­es, hand­ed me a wad of paper tow­el. The uncouth man­ner in which he pre­sent­ed the paper tow­el made his ges­ture all the more warm.

Handing me my din­ner, he said “Take it easy, bro”, and touched his fin­gers to his fore­head in a mini salute.

The rain stopped before I stepped out­side again.

And I haven’t cleaned my glass­es, or stopped smil­ing since.

2 comments

  1. Wonderful moment to note, live in, and share. thanx.

  2. Thank you for shar­ing the Glad Game with me.

    I don’t prac­tice it as often as I should.

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