Cinnamon Sugar | APsychoanalystsNightmare
It was often the most intelligent people who were the most troubled.
Jonathan knew this, not just from firsthand experience, but from a great deal of watching. He was very good at watching, because for someone so tall and awkward, he was often as not ignored completely. Normally, he didn't mind this much. It gave him opportunities that might've been rare for someone else.
It wasn't often he saw the scrappy younger man about, but it was often enough that he could look, and wonder. Jonathan had chanced to watch him over coffee, before, sipping from his warm mug while the man wandered aimlessly, almost as if sleeping, or having some sort of disagreement with himself.
Jonathan was interested, from a professional perspective. He could not know that others had been before him, and others would be after him. He rarely saw someone quite like this who wasn't very obviously homeless. The mental health system had a great deal of failings.
The next time Jonathan saw him, he bought two coffees instead of one, and garnished the second in the same way he did the first - more cinnamon than sugar, and a bit of creamer. He figured an offering might make the difference between hostile and not.
So, offering in hand, he approached and cleared his throat. "Excuse me."