I heard shouting.
It was a block away, muffled, coming from the other side of the street. A woman was running, shouting, carrying a small silver pitcher.
Another woman turned. Seeing the pitcher woman, she stopped.
They spoke, but the shouting was over. I heard none of it.
The first woman held up her pitcher. The second held up a paper coffee cup and removed its plastic lid. The first poured, and I noticed for the first time her barista apron, and I understood what I was seeing: a coffee shop mistake, followed by excellent coffee shop customer service.
I don’t often buy coffee on my way to work. But the next time I do, I know where to go.
