Greetings, Leigh, 

This might seem a little odd, but I wanted to reach out to thank you and the staff at The Independent for your work.

Honestly, I don’t read The Independent as regularly as I once did, but aim to get back in the habit.

One of the couple jobs I do is working weekend mornings at a convenience store near the north end of Glenwood South in downtown Raleigh.

Recently, one of our regular customers, Mr. B.-, passed on.  But, before I worked at the market, he and I often shopped at the market and then rode the bus together. Some mornings he would be paying for his couple beers while I waited to buy a pack of cigarettes and on other days he would shuffle up behind me in line.

I’d never heard him speak until one Saturday when we were out of his usual brand of beer and I needed to ask him the price of the cans he plunked on the counter.

“One forty nine,” he said.

Since then, we rarely spoke. Once, he brought back a few pennies he wasn’t due in change, but that I counted too hastily in hopes he wouldn’t miss the bus home. At that time, on the weekends, if he missed both the outbound buses—#12 or #16—he faced an hour wait to ride for two stops.

But, over the years I noticed something.  Every Wednesday, when Mr. B- got off the #12 Method in front of Eckerd’s, then Rite-Aid and, lastly, the Crunch gym, he would shuffle across the street and snatch your newspaper out of a row of boxes.

He must have liked it.

Thought you might like to know.

Best regards,

—Josh