Eventually, curiosity got the better of me. I asked another staff member if she was coming back.
They hesitated before answering.
I nodded and thanked them, then sat down with my coffee feeling unexpectedly unsettled.
An Unexpected Urge
That afternoon, I kept thinking about her. About how easy it had been to assume she would always be there, part of my routine, without ever knowing anything about her life beyond that counter.
I realized then how much meaning I had quietly attached to those short conversations.
Without planning to, I looked up her address. I don’t know what I expected to find. Maybe closure. Maybe reassurance that she was all right.
All I knew was that I didn’t want that connection to simply vanish without understanding why.
The next day, after a long internal debate, I walked to her building and stood outside longer than I care to admit, wondering if I was overstepping.
Then I knocked.
What happened after that would gently change the way I understood both my retirement and my own loneliness.
