Coffee Shop

     He sits in the coffee shop, aware yet not aware of his surroundings.  He watches without seeing the commuters come and go. He hears the sharp click-clack of heels, the tinkling of change as it’s dropped into the tip jar, the whirring of the espresso machine.  The coffee smells earthy, of another continent, of a world far away.  He looks down into his own hardly drained cup and silently sighs.  Today is going to be his first day back at work since, well since.

 

     The unread paper sits in front of him, as he stares vacantly at the people in line.  Maybe it’s too soon.  Maybe he should just go home.  Everyone would understand.  Moments pass, and the line trickles down to a few.  That’s when he sees House sitting on the other side of the coffee shop, quietly regarding him.  House nods at him, stiffly stands up, and walks over to him. 

 

      Wilson doesn’t move, just watches House curiously as he stands there.  House fidgets with his cane for a second and then finally speaks softly.  “I thought you could use a friend.”  Wilson looks up at House, sees the fear and the unspoken plea in his eyes.  Wilson stands up and joins House, and the two walk slowly, shoulder to shoulder, to face what the day will bring.