Through the glass door to where the coffee shop meets the rest of the building, to wherever that goes, a woman is waving her arms above her head. We are in this LEEDS-certified coffee shop to get me my organic vegan banana-chocolate chip muffin, and I am in a rush, and anyway she is wearing fur. But she is also old, so I nudge you toward her. I say, Is she? She has the kind of roller-curled hair that gets done in a salon for elderly women who wear full-length fur coats. She motions for us to open the door. She is yelling something. Through the glass we can hear her voice.
I go back to ordering my organic vegan banana-chocolate chip muffin while you open the door, while you shake your head as she hollers in Italian, pointing at something you can’t see. You try, like always.
Had she been in more distress we might have given it a little longer, maybe tried to find someone who spoke Italian. I might have forgotten about my organic vegan banana-chocolate chip muffin, might have taken more time, might have been late for work like the time years ago when I walked Sid across an intersection. Sid, old old Sid, it took us fifteen minutes to get through Georgia & Homer, cars honking in the green light. I took him to the post office and he tried to give me the coins in his pocket.
But this lady, it’s like there’s nothing we can do. You put up your hands and shrug I’m sorry. When I turn back, organic vegan banana-chocolate chip muffin in hand, she is gone.