The Selfie

"Pink croissant" were the first two words that came to mind, as I racked my brain to figure out what food stuff had been on the table. It was a guava croissant. A delightful snack. The coffee? That wasn't so good. I ordered a "special drip coffee" and I think "special" may have meant that the coffee literally contained lavender. I didn't ask. It was a busy morning in a cafe in the city that never sleeps. But the coffee didn't matter; it was the broader moment.

I was having coffee with a friend before I was going to head to the airport to return home. This would be the last time we would see each other for a while. We decided to take a selfie; one photo that captures the moment and acts as a reminder that we were there, in that moment. We had coffee, where the act of having coffee is never so much about the coffee as it is about the conversation.

A man in what looked to be an expensive suit, about to stand in line for his coffee, stopped and asked if we would like him to take our picture. This is almost always a more optimal arrangement than a selfie; we smiled and said it would be great if he could take our picture. My friend handed over his phone. The person, who I would guess worked for a large business, took our photo. It was great. Then he went about his day. I will probably never see them again.

The man who walked by had no obligation to reach out, but he did. This occasion of "having coffee" with my friend is now marked by two references in my mind: the delightful conversation, and the man in the expensive suit who kindly took a photo of my friend and I.