I’m not sure what compelled me to talk to Christine in particular. Maybe her bright teal tie-die scarf pulled my attention. Maybe it was her smile. She was approachable enough, so I felt invited to ask her if she was in a hurry.

 

Christine was pulling at the door to Starbucks; it was locked. She wanted a coffee, but almost all of Hanover’s cafés were closed for the evening.

 

Maybe fate had placed me in front of her and Fuji at this moment so I could point them to some unconventional spots for afternoon caffeine in town. Maybe it was coincidence. Christine and Fuji would say it was God.

 

I helped them find a little bookstore tucked away on a side street. I knew they still served coffee there. Christine got a mocha, I got a latte, Fuji drank a water. Across the street, cars were playing music and dropping off students who came in and out of Stinson’s with cases of beer. We chatted until the employees closed up and had to put the couch cushions away.

 

Christine loves talking to strangers; she does this for a living, she says. She’s a minister and a free-lance writer.

 

Christine and Fuji have been working together at the Christian Union for more than a year now. But they met each other in person for the first time today.

 

We were all somewhat strangers, but at the same time new friends, and we said our goodbyes with a hug and pulled our masks back up before we walked back through town. //