Sympathy Munchkins

I took the train downtown to get my camera repaired. 

L., the Dunkin Donuts man, was at his post behind the bullet-proof glass.  Every morning as I commuted to work I'd order the same thing at the same time, and L. would call me his "best friend," something I thought made me special until I realized that he calls all his regulars his best friend. 

The last time L. and I spoke was back in March when two months after losing my job I took the train to the airport to visit a friend. He'd told me that he thought maybe I'd met a man and moved away, which made me laugh at the hilarity of it as well as from his sweet concern over my abrupt disappearance from the commuter sphere. I'd ordered a bagel and he snuck six sympathy munchkins into the bag which I was unaware of until I was on the train. 

This time- our second reunion in the past year- L. was very curious as to how I am getting by and what I've been doing.  He told me that he used to have about 250 regulars and now there's 170, which given the economy sounds about right.

I assured L. that I am fine, and happy, and I'm working on "a lot of projects," projects being my euphemism for all that I can't sum up in a quick conversation. He didn't seem convinced, and told me that he hopes I'll find a job soon. I tried to explain that I started my own business. I gave him a copy of The Pipeline, which was my only copy with the toner streaked, the color busted out, and the formatting weird. The whole thing kind of looked sad, and I could see how he could see that because I saw it too. 

Then I pulled my broken camera out of my purse and showed him the missing button. I explained that I was on my way to get the camera fixed. 

He shook his head and said that was too bad. 

Then he told me to pick any donut, any donut I want. 

"I don't need a donut," I said, "Just the bagel." 

"Pick a donut!" he said again.

"Just a single chocolate munchkin," I replied. 

"No, not one, I'll give you two." 

"Okay, fine," I said. "Thank you, that's really nice of you." 

I got on the platform, and it turned out he'd thrown in six, along with the bagel that I'd paid for. I realized how hungry I was from not eating all day, and I ate all six chocolate munchkins, standing in the cold and waiting for the train.  I didn't save any room for the bagel.  I didn't care.