One cherry change

I didn’t have time to have breakfast comfortably before I went to work so I decided to pick up some on the way.

At the station I went into Marks and Spencers and bought a smoothie. The boy who served me said whatever he said to me in a kooky and informal, mock-American kind of way. I hardly responded, hardly looked in his eyes. I said I didn’t want a receipt.

Next I went to get some blood oranges from the fruit stall. I hadn't been served by this man before, even though I frequent this blood orange vendor. I have spoken to whom I think owns the stall before, a husky bearded cockney; he foists free samples of his wares upon all the passers-by. I always decline the offer because I have usually just cleaned my teeth after the breakfast I usually have before I leave for work. 

Today as I approach the blood oranges I acknowledge to myself the possibility of accepting the free sample due to lack of dental mintation. It not being Samson this time, I supposed the chance of free sample was diminished. I helped myself to his blood oranges and said I didn’t need a bag and gave the new boy my money: £1.50 – a pound coin, 2 20p’s and 2 5p’s. He said to me, with a knowing air of faint humour, ‘here is your change’ and he gave me a cherry. I was naturally delighted, thanked him to his eyes and then I turned away and off to get some coffee.

The cherry was still in my mouth and I was extracting the stone with my indelicate fingers as the Australian coffee vendor, one of three, asked if he could be of my service. I said a flat white please. He passed the message down the line and I got a stamp on my card. 

The girl in front of me asked if she could have some sweeteners for her coffee, she was wearing a big white furry woollen hat and was wrapped up in black clothing. I noticed her glittering ear studs. Her face was mild and eastern European. The coffee vendor found the sweetener dispenser and asked her how many? One? She said four. He obliged and exchanged a perplexed look with my smile. But it wasn’t as simple as just perplexion, no, he seemed embarrassed, put out and his composure did not immediately return to him as you might have expected it to, no, it lingered, as if he didn’t know how to handle the awkwardness of someone wanting 4 sweeteners in her coffee. She was completely oblivious to this, involved in her coffee, in stirring it, perhaps moody in the morning, not willing to give anyone the chance of any kind of joke perplexion.

And then I walked away and the scene ended.