When you are on the edge, an act of kindness can make you cry more than an act of cruelty. And it is a good thing; for crying is the way in which we vent off frustration. By crying we clean the house and make space for new, better days. Penny realized this, but still, she felt awkward in crying in front of a stranger.
That particular stranger didn’t mind. She just pointed at the sheets and said: “It must be pretty moving paperwork. Is it?”
Penny smiled, wiping off the tears. “Thank you.”
“What’s your name?”, the stranger asked, stretching out her hand.
Penny shook it. “I’m Penny.”
“Look Penny, I was going for a tea and, no offence intended, you look like you could do with one.”
“I need to head home. Tons of paperwork, you know.”
“Come on, paperwork can wait. A cup of Darjeeling and we’re off.”
It wasn’t like Penny to accept such offerings. She had friends. She wasn’t pathetic. She didn’t need the pity of a stranger, or her drinks.
Then again, there wasn’t pity, in the stranger’s voice. There was a sort of empathy, the desire to understand and help; no trace of contempt. And a cup of warm, soothing tea felt like a wonderful idea.
“Okay”, Penny said, “just one cup.”
[...to be continued!]
"Sometimes - often I think - telling stories that are embarrassing or even downright crazy is easier when you're telling them to a stranger." Stephen King
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