I paid for a crying stranger’s coffee and 14 months later I got a letter $7.40. That’s what it cost. She said it saved her life.
The lavender is still in the envelope.
It’s in my bedside drawer next to my phone charger and a tube of Burt’s Bees chapstick and a hair tie that I keep losing and finding. I open the drawer every night and I see it and I think about October and the woman in the yellow cardigan.
I’m gonna tell you this story and I want you to know that I didn’t do anything special. I paid for a coffee.
$7.40. That’s it. But she wrote it all down in a letter and now I keep the lavender in my drawer and I think about it every night and I need to tell someone because it’s been sitting in my chest for weeks.
My name is Lucy.
I’m 24. I’m a barista at a coffee shop called The Kettle on Cary Street in Richmond, Virginia. I make $11.50 an hour plus tips.
I live in a studio apartment above a laundromat that smells like Tide and dryer heat, which is honestly not the worst smell to fall asleep to. I have a cat named Arthur who only likes me when I’m sad, which means he liked me a lot last year.
I make maybe 200 drinks a day. Cappuccinos, cortados, oat milk this, extra shot that.
I know the regulars. I know their orders. I know which ones tip and which ones look through me like I’m furniture.
I’ve been at The Kettle for three years and I’m good at my job which nobody cares about because it’s a coffee shop and making a good latte is not something people consider a real accomplishment. But it is. Try making latte art when your hands are shaking because you’ve been on your feet since 5:30 AM and someone just yelled at you about almond milk.
October 2024.
A Tuesday. It was raining. Not hard.
The kind of rain that makes the street shine and makes people come in for something warm. The shop was half full.
She came in at 8:14 AM. I know the time because I’d just steamed a batch of milk and checked the clock, which is a habit I have because time moves differently behind a counter.
She was about 62.
The story doesn’t end here — it continues on the next page.
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