Mina had dropped a whole tray of spoons before her shift even began. Then the café music started playing the same song for the third time.
She wanted something good to happen. Preferably something that did not need mopping.
At the till, she paid three dollars of her own money for a small coffee for the next customer.
“Anonymous,” she told Ruth, the manager.
Ruth rang it up. The receipt printed Mina’s loyalty number and a coupon for her next free coffee. Mina folded both into her apron without looking.
The next customer, a woman with a damp bicycle helmet, accepted the gift. Then she paid nine dollars for three more small coffees.
“Keep it going,” she said.
Mina served those three to the next three people. One took a picture of the queue and posted it with the words FREE COFFEE MORNING.
By ten, the line reached the door.
“It’s good,” Mina told Lio, who was wiping tables. “People want to be kind.”
“That man wants two large iced coffees,” he said. “He says his wife is outside.”
Mina explained that the gifts had covered four small coffees, all already served. The man looked at his phone.
“It doesn’t say that here.”
“I didn’t post it.”
“Could you do one more?”
People behind him were listening. Mina thought of the dropped spoons, the long dull shift ahead. For five minutes she had been the person who made a morning better.
She paid six dollars for two more small coffees.
The man took one. The woman behind him took the other and thanked Mina so warmly that Mina wanted to buy a seventh.
Then she checked the cash in her apron. She needed bus fare home.
Lio came to the till with a mop. Someone had spilled milk under the back table. Two empty cups stood in a plant pot.
“My break’s in five minutes,” he said.
“Could you just get the back corner first? All this is for a good cause.”
“It’s still work.”
“I know. I mean, help me out.”
He leaned the mop against the wall. “I’ve helped all morning. I want to sit down and eat.”
He went to the staff room at his usual break time. Mina felt a sharp little anger. She had spent her own money. Surely he could give a few minutes.
Ruth took six clean small cups and put them in a row on the counter.
“These are the ones paid for,” she said. “Yours, the cyclist’s three, and your last two. All served. What do you want me to tell the people still waiting?”
Mina looked at the cups. Six. The queue had made it feel like a hundred promises.
“Tell them,” she began, then stopped. “I’ll tell them.”
She stepped out from behind the till.
“The six gifted coffees have all been served,” she said. “I’m sorry the post wasn’t clear. You can buy a drink, but there aren’t any more free ones today.”
Three people left. One complained that he had walked over from the garage. Another shrugged and ordered a tea. The line became a line again, instead of a crowd watching Mina.
She asked Ruth what an extra half-hour of Lio’s work would cost. Ruth told her the amount and agreed to add it to his pay if he chose to stay. Mina could cover it from her bank account. She would have less to spend at the weekend, but she would still get home.
When Lio returned, she made the offer.
“Paid?” he asked.
“Paid. Through Ruth. And only if you want to.”
“Half an hour. Then I’ve got somewhere to go.”
He took the mop. Mina collected the cups from the plant pot herself.
In the quiet corner, Ed sat with a job form and a tea he had bought. He held up a hand when Mina came near.
“Please don’t take my picture.”
“I wasn’t going to.”
“And can you turn that music down? I’ve written my old address twice.”
She lowered it. Ed rubbed out the wrong address and began again.
As Mina pulled a cloth from her apron, the folded receipt fell out. Later, Ed brought it to her from the floor.
“Your free-drink coupon,” he said. “Your number’s on the receipt. So much for anonymous.”
Mina laughed. It came out tired, but it was a laugh.
“You can have it.”
“I’d rather have that corner again tomorrow.”
She put the coupon in her pocket and carried his empty cup to the sink.
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