The Man at the Bakery

This morning, the man in front of me at the bakery paid for his bread and then, without looking at me, paid for mine as well. I tried to thank him. He said it was not worth thanking him for. He said someone had done the same for him a month ago, and he had been looking for his turn. He left before I could ask him his name.

The woman behind the counter gave me my change and said he did this most weeks. She did not say it as though it was a remarkable thing. She said it the way you say the weather.

I walked home holding the bread and I could not quite tell you why I felt lighter than I had in weeks. It was two pounds forty. That was all. And I think the thing was not the two pounds forty but the noticing. Somebody had been looking for their turn. Somebody had waited a month, and had been carrying the looking with him, and today was the day it landed. On me. On a Tuesday morning. Over bread.