Poison for Breakfast

by Lemony Snicket

Many years ago, I was crying very hard on a bench outside. I was crying because there was someone I would never really see again. A man happened by whom I knew—not a friend, not even an associate. Truthfully, I had always thought he was something of an oaf. He was all dressed up in a fancy suit, and he was in a hurry. It is very embarrassing to cry when other people can see you, but it is something we all do eventually. The man saw me, and I saw him see me. I did not know where he was going, and he did not know why I was crying. He did not keep hurrying, which would have embarrassed me, and he did not give me a big hug and tell me everything was going to be all right, which would have made me cry harder. He stopped and sat next to me and did not speak a word. He did not say anything at all, and I could not tell you why it was the most perfect thing to do. It was a terrible time for me, but it was, perhaps, his finest hour.