I have ten minutes before the late afternoon meeting. I’m tired and realize the best thing I can do is get a cup of strong coffee to lift me out of the 4 pm doldrums. I go into a nearby cafe and standing at the counter, order a cappucino. The place is crowded. A woman comes up to the counter next to me and orders a double espresso. I look at her out of the corner of my eye. She is dark and nice looking. Another furtive glance and I see she is expensively dressed in muted browns and grays. Chic. Our coffees come at the same time and mine is a little too dark. Looking down the counter, I see a pitcher of cream on the other side of the woman. I ask if I could have it. With a very badly deformed hand, she slowly pushes it towards me. It takes a long time to arrive and I can’t help looking at the hand as it pushes. Inside I’m saying stop it, don’t look at the hand. Finally I pull my eyes away from it and up to her face. She’s sort of smiling but for the life of me I cannot figure out what kind of smile it is.