I Gave Coffee To The Old Janitor My Family Humiliated

his chair with that little smirk he practiced in mirrors, suddenly found something fascinating about the grain of the table.

The old man – my grandfather – didn’t look at any of them. He looked at me.

“You poured me coffee,” he said. “Two weeks ago. The Tuesday it rained.”

I remembered. He’d been mopping the lobby, and the machine in the break room had continue reading …