In the cafe today... lady comes in with a head-damaged friend she is taking to the hospital for an MRI scan. He goes into the bathroom and is there for quite a long time. (Later, both The Dreaded One and I notice that someone has unwrapped several toilet paper rolls and put them on the handle of the toilet brush, probably because they think this is the way things should be. We think we know who it was).
But back outside in the cafe, this customer starts reading my writing in the back of the menu while she drinks her coffee. I am satisfied with the smile my words bring to her solitude. Eventually she looks up and asks me whose writing entries these are. I tell her they are mine. She tells me how much she is enjoying reading them. Tells me she is here with her brain damaged friend and that they just needed a walk and she needed a coffee, and that she likes the way I structure the writing. She comes across as a former English teacher or something, or maybe just a lifelong reader, someone who appreciates the rhythm and flow of a story.
And she thanks me for making this chance encounter such delightful experience.
Small and unexpected gift to a stranger with troubles I can't comprehend... highlight of the day.