Please take my pencil

Transcript

Last night I had dinner at a tiny restaurant in the middle of downtown Kyoto. It's on a wide pedestrian street where a lot of young people hang out. The sliding glass door is right on the street, one step down.

An elderly couple have run the place for many years. The man cooks and the woman takes care of customers. They offer a very basic menu of coffee or tea, sandwiches, and curry rice. I've enjoyed their curry rice and the quiet atmosphere for as long as I can remember. Often I'm the only customer.

Last night, while I was eating, a man appeared just outside the door. He looked fairly young, maybe in his forties, and his clothes looked quite old and a little dirty. He had four or five plastic bags of various sizes and colors.

The woman went to the door and asked him what he wanted. He mumbled something that I couldn't hear. She told him that they didn't need anything, and then she came back and stood behind the counter. She said that he'd offered to sell her some used newspapers and other stuff.

The man stayed in front of the door for at least another five minutes. Finally a young guy came along and spoke with the man, pointing down the street. The man picked up his bags and shuffled away. The young guy came into the restaurant, chatted with the couple for few minutes, and then left.

About ten minutes later the man appeared again. This time he marched into the restaurant, right up to the counter. He pulled a well-used pencil from his shirt pocket and placed it in the money tray beside the cash register. With a quiet voice he said to the woman, roughly translated, I'm sorry about earlier. Please take my pencil.

And then he bowed lightly and walked out.