I was again basking in the warmth of his coffee-stained smile. Innocent and shy, as though it was unclear if he should be smiling.
“Isn’t it a great morning!” He asks a little too loudly.
“It is”, I answer
Every muscle I have is still asleep. I stretch my lips into a small smile to be kind.
It is the same greeting. I have heard it every morning in the last six months, always accompanied by a cup of coffee- dark, two sugars.
And every morning I try to meet his eyes over the exchange of cash and coffee but, my mind is elsewhere today. Another man is missing. His entire world summarised into a hashtag I’m frankly tired of reading. He’s the 5th one in the last 6 months.
Back in my flat, the glow of my computer screen is just a blinking cursor on another article I must write about the ‘Bean Man’.
I shuffle to the floorboards that should be closed and peek in, counting the coffee-stained smiles I have collected since I got here, remembering what each one looked like on their owner’s faces.
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