Up and about when all is quiet,
Kevin puts on his sports clothes and running shoes and races through the park.
It doesn’t matter if there is light rain, or if the temperature has dropped below
freezing, the run invigorates him, sets him right for the day.
The early train is half empty, and
Kevin takes his usual seat in the third car. He picks up the self-help book he
is reading. As the train speeds toward the city, Kevin studies the daily habits
of successful people.
Kevin emerges from the station and
bounds across the street, steps ahead of a passing delivery truck. The barista at
the all-night coffee shop greets him by name. He nods and takes his regular
table toward the back. This is where he sits every morning, the natural
lighting just right. His regular table. He powers up his laptop, and his espresso
is ready moments later.
The barista—maybe her name is Nancy,
he's not sure—once tried to engage Kevin in conversation, asking him why he
worked in the coffee shop. Kevin gave her the briefest of replies, telling her
he had long ago vowed to stay clear of office politics, and that he had a shaky
internet connection at home.
What Kevin didn’t tell her was that
he had recently been fired from his job at a brokerage firm. Insider trading,
they said, but it wasn’t exactly true. He also didn’t tell the barista that he
had just broken up with his girlfriend. She had yet to remove her things from
the apartment they had shared. Getting into the city each day and working in
the coffee shop—this was the escape he needed. This was his life now.
Kevin sits at his regular table and
sips his coffee. He gets busying buying securities and stocks, then selling
them later, hoping to turn a profit. For Kevin, the coffee shop is a welcome
refuge when everything in his life has gone wrong. The relaxed ambience of the
place makes him forget, temporarily, the loss of a job, and the girlfriend who walked
out on him. Listening to mood music streaming through his AirPods, he filters
out the surrounding noise and tunes out of his troubles. The morning's caffeine
intake keeps him alert, keeps him on course. He reviews his positions and
closes profitable deals where he can, hoping to come out ahead at the end of
the market day.
On the train home, Kevin reads a
chapter of his self-help book. When he arrives at his apartment, he sets his
laptop on the table and skims through emails. A dinner of leftover Chinese
takeout awaits him. He walks around the boxes left by his ex-girlfriend, opens
a beer, and falls asleep while watching a streaming crime series.
Five days a week, Kevin travels to
the city and sits at the coffee shop for a full day of day trading. Kevin
wonders whether it's all worth it. No colleagues to work with, no girlfriend
waiting for him when he returns home. There must be more to life than this.
It's Friday morning, the last day of
the workweek. When Kevin arrives at the coffee shop, someone is sitting at his
usual table. The table in the back, by the window. His table. A woman with her
head down is typing on her laptop. Kevin looks around at the many available
tables. He could sit anywhere, but this is where the natural lighting is best.
The barista has a wry smile on her face as she prepares his espresso. Kevin
turns to the woman.
“Excuse me. This is my table.”
The woman looks up, stares at Kevin,
and then breaks into tears. He steps back, not understanding what he’s done to
offend her. He raises his hands, surrendering the table, but doesn’t move away.
He won't be able to get any work done sitting near a crying woman.
“Is something wrong?” He realizes
how stupid this sounds because, obviously, something is very wrong.