- Hi Chef!
- Hi boy! Okay?
- Okay and you?
- Okay, okay.
was almost always how we began our conversations. Then I walked to the back for a piss or I would fill my thermos of coffee. When it was quiet and I was not too eager to hit the road, we talked about everything and anything, especially anything. Often, he asked me to help him with a word on which he hung in his crossword puzzle or he showed me an "article" in the various porn magazines that he hid under the counter. From time to time he paid me coffee and stamped three-four times my card bonus. Not pretending anything, he offered me some muffins or cookies fresh. He had a nice casual observing.
- And then what happens on the road head?
- Okay. As usual. Not much to report. You can make me change for $ 20?
It happened once in a while I surprise him sleeping or train for a smoke away from cameras placed throughout the station.
I tease him by a nod when he served as a pretty woman before me. Obviously, we expected her to leave to go to our comments.
Nothing really serious, speaking as always another bend in the time of our respective long nights.
By dint of a few minutes here and there, we learned to know and appreciate. He was always cheerful even when I felt it was more or less. Often, he told me he was homesick, but that life was hard there. He endured so our winters and our women who say too often no. He said that with a smile that would have to say yes to more than one.
One night, like that between a refill of coffee and another client, he announced he was returning home, that was her last night. I shook his hand, wished him all the luck in the world and greeted him one last time.
I realize today that despite the fact that one is rubbed on a daily basis for years, I never knew his name. Yet these days, I think a lot about him and his native Tunisia. I like to imagine, the barricades with his smile and his casualness. I can only wish for him and all his countrymen, that everything happens for the best in this new country.
Hi boy!
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