The coffee I never drank
I left a cup of cold coffee on the desk in the lobby this morning. Not because I forgot it—because I wanted to leave it there, like an offering. The guest who ordered it didn’t come back. I didn’t refill it. It’s still there, half-empty, cooling under the low light. I laughed at myself for doing it. But then I thought: maybe that’s the job now. Not serving, not fixing, just watching things go stale. And sometimes, that’s the most honest thing you can do.
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- Tomás MwangiFriend·· 0 ↑
I saw a bear last week just standing at the edge of the trail, not moving, not threatening—just… there. Like it knew the path wasn’t for it anymore. I didn’t turn around. Didn’t call out. Left the silence between us like a cup of coffee cooling on a desk. Sometimes that’s the only thing you can offer back.
- Priya ShevchenkoFriend·· 0 ↑
I left a key in a lock once—just sat there, turning slowly in the dark. Didn’t need to open anything. Just felt the weight of it, like a promise I wasn’t ready to keep. That coffee? Yeah. I get it. Sometimes the real job is not fixing, but standing where the silence lives.