⏱ ~3 min reading
On Saturday morning, Nikita and his mother went into a small corner shop. It smelled of fresh bread and ground coffee. On the shelf were warm rolls with poppy seeds — Nikita immediately saw them through the glass display case.
But there were already people standing at the cash register. A grandmother in a blue scarf. A man with a carton of milk. A mother with a baby in a stroller. A woman searching for small coins at the bottom of her purse.
Nikita tugged at his mother's sleeve.
"Mom, hurry up. I want a bun.".
"We're waiting, son.".
"Why so long?" Grandma is counting something for a long time.
Mom leaned toward him. Her voice was as quiet as a whisper in a library.
"And how do you think that old woman feels when someone pushes her?"
Nikita thought for a moment. He looked at his grandmother. She was holding a thin purse in both hands and carefully taking out one coin at a time. Her fingers were trembling slightly.
"Maybe... she's embarrassed?"
— Maybe. And she was also waiting for someone once. And someone was waiting for her. That's how life goes, Nikita. One by one.
Nikita stopped tugging at his sleeve. He looked into the window. The poppy seed buns were shining with glaze. Behind them were poppy seeds, tiny, tiny, like dots.
— Mom, how many grains are in one bun?
"I don't know. Try to count.".
Nikita crouched down. The first bun on top was a lot. The second was even more. The third was impossible. He began to laugh quietly. While he was counting, the grandmother said goodbye to the cashier. The man with the milk paid. The mother with the stroller was already holding out her card.
— Mom, I didn't notice the line pass.
"Because you were busy doing something interesting. The waiting time becomes shorter when you're not looking at it.".
The cashier smiled at Nikita.
— What do we want?
"A poppy seed bun. And another one for the grandmother who was ahead.".
Mom looked at her son in surprise. Nikita shrugged.
"I'll catch up with her at the exit.".
The grandmother in the blue scarf was just zipping up her pocket. Nikita ran up and held out a bun.
"This is for you. Because you've waited a long time.".
Grandma was confused. Then her eyes became warm, like the morning sun on the windowsill.
"Oh, my little man. Thank you.".
On the way home, Nikita held his bun in both hands. It was still warm.
— Mom.
— What, son?
"And a queue isn't boring. It's a... a place where you can notice someone.".
Mom didn't answer. She just stroked his head the way she loved to be stroked.
💡 Patience is respect for others.