Late night snack

I had spent the night stranded at Victoria Station, waiting for the early morning coach and reading. Another guy was also waiting there, from time to time he whistled a melancholic French tune into the night. At some point, we decided to go for coffee at the only place that was open, and it was full of people returning from nightlclubs. A guy in dirty clothes had been standing nearby for a while.

D. Are you in the queue?

G. No, I’m not (he moves out of the way to let me through).

D. Um okay, thanks!

(A couple of minutes go by, the queue moves forward, it’s going to be my turn soon. The guy is still there, watching people leave with burgers, bacon sandwiches and whatnot...)

D. Sorry, is there anything you would you like?

G. No no, it’s alright.

D. Um okay, sorry again.

G. (he catches up with me) Wait, if you want to get me something, could I have a cream doughnut?

D. (to the cashier) Can I have a cream doughnut with this please?

G. Thanks.

D. (relieved that he asked) No problem.

I was actually quite happy about this. I thought it was unfortunate that it was probably going to take me a couple of failed attempts until I actually learned to care deeply about strangers (sort of like Christ when he worried about the welfare of the five thousands who had followed him). Still, on that night I had been so weary, tired, hungry and mellow that this guy and I had connected instantly. Judging by the grins on our faces, this wasn’t too bad a start. I wished we lived in the same city.

As a kid I used to scrupulously forgive everyone before church, because I knew we’d have to say the Lord’s Prayer loud and clear (and preferably mean it, too). But lately it’s been hitting home that I’d never been that serious about the “give US this day OUR daily bread” bit. I’ve never been hungry enough to really pray for bread; and as for the daily bread of others, I never really cared about it in any meaningful way. Where this guy is tonight, for example.