‘We locked eyes, and he got a big smile on his face.’

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Dear Diary:

The deli on West 40th Street across from my office closed during the pandemic, and I found another deli a few blocks away that had great egg and cheese sandwiches.

The lovely lady who I had imagined was the owner welcomed me and everyone else inside with a big smile.

“Good morning, dear,” she cried as we entered.

As we walked she said, “Have a nice day, love.”

Once I became a regular, she always had my coffee cup and protective sleeve ready to put on herself as soon as she saw me come in.

When I lost my job and wasn’t going to Midtown, I missed those sandwiches and my morning rituals. Yes, it was just an egg and cheese on a toasted bagel and a coffee, but it was my place that I really loved.

Six months after my last visit to the deli, I returned to the same office building—but not before stopping for breakfast first. I was filled with excitement.

I walked in the door and saw the lady at the counter. We locked eyes and a big smile appeared on her face.

“Hello, my dear,” she cried. “I have not seen you in a while. How are you?”

She soon had my coffee cup ready for me.

—Ben Schneider

Dear Diary:

Whenever I finish reading a magazine and it is in clean condition, I am faced with a dilemma: recycle it or leave it on a park bench or subway seat for someone else to enjoy?

By leaving it somewhere I can serve the public. Or I might be making trash for someone else to clean up.

Recently, when I looked, I found the answer to this question.

I was rushing to transfer to Columbus Circle when the magazine I was reading flew out of my coat pocket and fell on the ground. In my desire to make my train I decided not to stop to pick him up.

As the doors closed, I watched silently as people walked past my litter.

But just before the train started, I saw a woman stop and examine the cover. Then she bent down, picked up the magazine and put it in her bag.

-Ryan Kailath

Dear Diary:

It was the late 1960s, and I was attending Cooper Union at night and living in a small, shared apartment in the East Village.

I had become interested in Eastern thought and was trying to learn how to be kind in my life. As part of that effort, I just started attending yoga classes.

One day due to heavy rain I took a bus between home and school. The bus was very crowded, but I got a seat.

A man boarded the bus and was standing drenched near me. He was mumbling to himself, and I was curious to hear what he was saying. He was complaining about his life.

“Nobody cares about me,” he said. “I’m alone. Nobody cares. I have nothing.”

He told that he did not even have an umbrella to protect himself from the rain.

As soon as he spoke, people started looking at the floor or looking away. His voice became louder. My stop was getting closer and I didn’t know what to do.

Then, as I stood up and prepared to head for the door, I handed the man my umbrella.

He yelled at me, asking me what it was.

I said, this is for you.

He asked why.

“Because I love you,” I murmured.

What, he asked – as if he had not heard me.

“Because I love you,” I yelled before jumping off the bus.

-Shanti Norris

Dear Diary:

I was waiting behind an older lady at the local dry cleaner. She was clearly a regular like me, because the man behind the counter greeted her by name.

She placed a pair of pants on the counter and carefully explained how she wanted them ironed so that there would be no wrinkles.

“You cut your hair,” he said to the man.

He rubbed his head, which sported a close-cropped crew cut.

“Yes, I have shortened it for the winter,” he said.

The woman was silent, so I placed the pipe.

“It looks great!” I had said.

“I’ll have to get used to it,” the woman said.

-Jennifer Jarrett

Dear Diary:

My friend was acting in an off-Broadway play. My wife, I and two boys went to see it.

Unfortunately, we got lost on the way and were delayed by 45 minutes.

As we approached the box office to pick up our tickets, the clerk asked if we were Spanos.

Yes, we said it.

Thank God, he replied. We were waiting for you to start.

-Joseph Spano

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Illustration by Agnes Lee