October 24

I noticed last week that one of the baristas at my usual Starbucks would see me come in and then immediately make my order. (It's usually just a cup of light roast coffee, so nothing particularly complicated, though apparently he did too-quickly make my usual afternoon order of late --an iced coffee with caramel and two percent milk-- in the morning one day last week, though I didn't see him do it.) Anyhow, I had my usual cup this morning and went to the counter for a refill before I left to meet a friend for a walk. I figured they'd be out of my blonde roast since it was late-morning, and I okayed medium in its place even though I don't really care for it. (Because coffee.) I was surprised when said-barista cut in and retrieved this from the back counter:

He explained that he'd saved the last of the blonde for me. And then he actually apologized that it might be a little cold, even though he'd double-cupped it to try to keep it warm. For me.

It was a small but very kind gesture, and I was so touched that I left without adding my usual cream and sugar. But you know something? Even though I'm not really a straight-up black coffee person, it still tasted pretty darn good to me because thoughtful gestures can make even bitter things sweet.