She laughed.
“Is he blind?”
“Completely.”
“What’s his name?”
“Benny.”
She crouched slightly but didn’t touch him without asking.
That impressed me.
“I’m Mary,” she said. “What can I bring you?”
“Just a small coffee, please.”
“Sure.”
I opened my purse.
Then a man behind the counter spoke.
“Only coffee?”
I turned.
He appeared to be in his early forties, neatly dressed, with the kind of expression that suggested he was constantly measuring whether everything around him met his standards.
“Yes,” I said. “Just coffee.”
His eyes moved toward an empty table.
“You’re planning to sit?”
“Only for a little while. I became lightheaded outside.”
Mary immediately looked concerned.
“Would you like some water?”
“I’d appreciate that.”
She turned to get it.
The man continued staring at Benny.
Then he said, “The dog can’t stay.”
I thought I had misunderstood him.
“Excuse me?”
“If you’re only ordering coffee, the dog has to leave.”
