I was standing in line for a coffee. There was a shabby lady in front of me.
“What will it me, ma’am?” said the barista.
“Last night a had a dream that somebody cared about me,” she replied.
I felt really bad for her and I wanted to say that I care about her, but I thought she would probably look at me dead-eyed for a second and then start acting all crazy. So I just stood there in silence until it was my turn.
I took my coffee to a two-person booth by the window and tried to think about work, but I kept thinking about the strange lady instead. I could have told her I loved her, but she could have responded rejecting me. And that I could never take.