The poorly lit bookstore entrance doorbell chimes, and in walks a well-dressed man in his mid-forties, dripping from the pouring rain outside. Boris never was one for cheap accessories and therefore left his grocery store umbrella at his one-bedroom apartment. He does not want anyone to see it.

“Hello,” says Boris in a low but confident voice while looking at the clerk behind the desk. There’s a limited number of words per day that he’s willing to exchange with strangers, and so Boris keeps the word count to a minimum in mundane moments like greeting a store clerk.

Suddenly, Boris falls forward on the slightly muddy carpet. He lands on his hands and knees and exclaims, “What the fuck?” A clumsy, corpulent but not obese man barges in through the door of the store in a desperate attempt to save his paper grocery bags from melting in the rain.

“Oh my, I’m so sorry! Let me help you up!” cries out Ralph, the new arrival.

“Fuck off, man! Are you stupid, running in like that? What if there was a child behind that door?” retorts Boris.

“Umm… yes… again, I’m… s-sorry. I just have these groceries for my mother’s birthday today, and I am already running late. I am afraid I might not make it in time to coo…” says Ralph with a trembling voice.

“I don’t give a shit about your mother. Look at my clothes now, you idiot! They’re ruined!” responds Boris, clearly agitated and quite unable to let it go.

“I’m sorry. I was really worried and didn’t think about what might happen,” says Ralph calmly, now frustrated with Boris for the harsh words aimed at him.

“Ugh, it’s fine. I’m okay,” says Boris in a defeated way. At this point, the decibels in the room have lowered to a peaceful talking level again. Ralph again repeated how sorry he felt for the incident and helped Boris clean his coat with wet wipes that he had just purchased.

Meanwhile, the rain is pouring hard as people scramble to find shelter. There is no sign of it stopping.

The store clerk, having heard the exchange, pulled out two umbrellas that the store had in stock for just such occasions when travelers stopped in the store in haste, dripping wet from the frequent rains in the autumn months.

“Here you go, sirs,” says the clerk, an old gentleman with eyes full of hope that these two men will be delighted by his offer.

“Oh my, thank you so much. How much do I owe you for it?” asks Ralph.

“Oh no, no, this is a gift from me to you. I’ve learned that creating joy is easy when you look out for opportunities to help others,” cheerfully replies the clerk in a raspy voice.

On the other hand, Boris, after inspecting the umbrella for a while, rejects it and, with an uncomfortable laugh, responds that he does not require one and that he has one at home anyway.

Both men then see an opportunity to continue on their journeys as the rain subsides for a bit. As they exit the store and walk in opposite directions, the clerk has a strange feeling that something is off. That’s right! There was no bell sound as the men opened and closed the door.

The clerk looks deeper into the store and sees the bell lying on its side, with the little hook that held it on the door broken. The men never noticed it. They were too busy squabbling and later focused on finding the first opportune moment to escape the awkward proximity of each other.

The floor is muddy, dirty water is sprinkled outside the little carpet, and the doorbell is ripped off. In addition, the clerk gave away one of his umbrellas, and neither of the men purchased anything.

And yet, he was at peace. In fact, he did earn something from that exchange: a sense of joy knowing that a certain mother somewhere today will get her birthday dinner on time.