I ran into my friend George the other day. I hadn’t seen him in forever.
He’s always been one of the sweetest people with the kindest of hearts.
So it was no surprise to me when he asked if I wanted a coffee. What I wasn’t expecting was for him to then hand me the paper cup he had in his hand.
“Don’t worry” he assured me. “I haven’t drunk out of it. It’s a perfectly good coffee, I just don’t want it”
Still baffled, I thanked him. It was early and I didn’t really compute what was going on. My day doesn’t really start until after coffee has been consumed so the main feeling I had was deep gratitude.
I didn’t think much more of it until literally four days later I ran into him again in the same place, around the same time. Our commutes clearly clashed.
George greeted me with both happiness and relief.
“Would you like a coffee?” he asked again, gesturing towards the paper cup in his hand.
This time I sharpened up. This was not normal behaviour.
“George, don’t be ridiculous, I’ll get myself one. You have that one.”
“Thing is Lex, I don’t like coffee. At all.”
It turns out George walks past the same coffee shop every morning and had noticed the most beautiful girl behind the counter. Thing is, he hates coffee. But he buys one anyway so he can go in and speak to her.
I pointed out most coffee shops do serve other things beside coffee. But George had panicked on the first visit and ordered a latte. She has remembered his order and been putting a little milky shaped hearts in the foam every morning since. It makes his day.
I found this most amusing and suggested maybe he should just go in there and tell her the truth. It’s enough to melt even the hardest of hearts and maybe he’d get a phone number out of it.
But until then, if you pass through King’s Cross station in the morning keep an eye out for George.
The coffee’s on him.