As the man walks out of the bakery, the lid pops off of his to-go cup of coffee.
He just stands there for a moment. Then: “That’s really hot coffee.”
The young man and women—who look like they could be brother and sister, but have been complaining about someone they work with for 15 minutes—quickly offer napkins. “Here, I’ll get more for you.”
“I usually have my service dog,” the man says, gathering himself. There’s a step down out of this bakery and then a small ramp, I know, having given up trying to get a stroller into the place a few years ago.
He thanks the young people, who chat with him politely for a minute or two.
He goes on his way.