Sat down on a bench at the Starbucks. This is a busy Manhattan Starbucks, and seating space is at a premium. You take what you can get. I got a spot at the end of a crowded bench next to this dude who was sort of just sitting there staring into space. Guy in his late 30s, bald with beard, quasi hipster. I didn’t think anything of him other than that I wished he wasn’t there so I would have more room.
I set my phone down on the little table that was halfway between him and me so that it was debatable whether the table went with his space or with mine, so it was shared by default. His phone was also on the table. iPhone 5 in black otter case, just like mine.
As he began to adjust to my presence he scooched over a little, and picked up what he thought was his phone as part of a process of re-situating his things. Except he picked up my phone by mistake.
At first I thought it was strange because his phone was closer to him and mine was closer to me, so he had to reach for the phone furthest away from him. If he was thinking about it it would have been obvious that he was grabbing my phone but then I realized he was sort of on auto-pilot.
He put my phone down with the rest of his stuff. I was waiting for him to realize but he never did. I wondered for a second if he knew and did it on purpose. After all we are in NY and people are crazy here.
When it was apparent that he was going to let it ride I said, I think you got my phone. He snapped back into this world and said, oh sorry, yeah I see we have the same phone, and handed it back to me.
I said, well that would have been awesome (for us to walk away with each other’s phones). He said yeah, that would have been just what I needed on top of this already awesome day (obvious sarcasm). He did not elaborate and the conversation ended there.
A table top opened up so I migrated. He’s still sitting there staring into space with a furrowed brow and somewhat of a grimace on his face, as if in some degree of physical pain. Looks worried, or sad. Wonder what happened. Mom die? Wife left him? Lost his job? Just found out he has cancer?
Wonder if there is any way I can help to prevent a little human misery. But there’s nothing I can do short of being a crazy person asking him if there’s anything I can do. I’m not even supposed to know he’s in pain. He’ll be on his way here in a bit, out into the street, carrying it with him, and blend in with everyone else, who are carrying their own pain inside their own little bubbles. Outside in the street is a parade of thousands of silent stories of pain.
Polyphonic 