An Unwelcome Encounter
A man in a black leather jacket walks up to a table where an older man sits alone. He reaches out and purposefully tips the older man’s mug, spilling hot coffee across the tabletop and the veteran’s lap.
The younger man leans over, his hands gripping the edge of the laminate table. His chest rises and falls with each breath, and his knuckles whiten under the pressure of his tight grip.
The older man sits motionless. He watches the dark liquid spread across the surface of the table, staining the wood grain. He does not flinch or reach for a napkin.
The Weight Of The Past
The younger man circles the table, his eyes fixed on the rows of medals pinned to the veteran’s military jacket. He gestures toward the chest area, his finger pointing sharply at the ribbons and pins.
He speaks about the jacket, questioning the authenticity of the awards pinned to the fabric. His voice remains low, rattling the air between them.
The veteran looks up, his eyes steady. He raises his right hand, not to defend himself, but to rest it firmly on the cup still sitting on the table. He shifts his weight in the booth, the leather seat creaking beneath him.
A Shift In The Air
The younger man continues to press, leaning closer until their faces are mere inches apart. He suggests the veteran looks like a relic from a museum, his tone sharp and jagged.
The older man does not blink. He speaks slowly, his voice carrying a gravity that makes the younger man pause. He tells him to look closer before he decides to speak again, noting that the coffee spilled will cost the man dearly.
The younger man stops moving. He stares at the medals again, then at the man wearing them. He retracts his finger, his hand dropping to his side.
The Final Word
The veteran stands his ground, his gaze never leaving the man standing over him. He mentions that he is nothing if not real, and that the medals he wears carry a history.
The younger man shifts his feet. He looks down at his own hands, then back at the veteran. He mumbles an apology, his posture losing its rigid intensity.
The veteran accepts the words with a slight nod. He reaches for his cup, lifts it to his lips, and takes a slow, steady drink as the younger man turns to walk away.
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