Lunch is over, and I've just punched back in at the time clock and am heading to the double doors with the little windows you look through to make sure you don't whack the head of someone on the other side. Through the glass is the dark hair of a guy looking down in that way that says he's staring at a cell phone. Our nonstop texting world. I pull the door wide and wait. Still looking down, his thumbs fast on the keypad, he steps all the way through the open door. Then looks up. Smiles.
"Thanks," he says. "I was in the middle of an argument."
His head goes back down to the cell phone and his thumbs get going again and he's off.
As I head the other way, the thing that strikes me about the tiny encounter is not that the guy was nonstop texting down the hall, and not the argument, but the way there's a little happy left in me from the one moment in the middle where two people looked at each other and smiled.