The Coins He Left Behind

I was working a caf' shift when a small boy sat alone at one of my tables and asked how much the sundaes cost. I told him the price without really looking at him. He counted his coins carefully, asked for the cheaper ice cream instead. I was impatient ' people were waiting, my feet hurt, my mood was short. I brought the dish, dropped the bill, moved on. He ate quietly, paid at the till, and left. When I came back to clear the table, I found his tip laid out beside the empty bowl ' the exact coins he'd been counting so seriously. Fifteen pence. Everything he had left. I stood there holding those coins longer than I should have. And realised how little kindness costs ' and how easily I withhold it.