Mr. Helpful

Crap.


For a split second I thought I just shouldn't say I was indeed who Mr.Helpful thought I was. I mean, the guy didn't even know my name. Right? But how do you do that to a stranger who gets you coffee on a dreary winter's day. So, with every intention of holding a small conversation, I turned and unknowingly faced the one person who would end up saving me from one of the darkest most lonely times of my life. And when I faced Mr.Helpful, I knew exactly who he was. Actually, I knew about him and had briefly met him before, but so briefly I only remembered his name and that he seemed nice.

My first impression was right. Mr.Helpful was nice - so nice in fact that before I even knew what was happening, we were laughing over an odd small town story in the newspaper and hours had breezed by us. And before I really, really knew what was happening, Mr.Helpful and I had come to a point where we were just talking, but it was obvious neither of us wanted to leave. And then came the words I unknowingly didn't want to hear: "I've got to go." Which were followed closely by, "What are you doing today?".