It was spectacularly foggy this morning - grey and thick, the kind of fog that feels like a blanket set down over the city.
I waited by myself down on Fillmore and Geary and watched the sky turn from grey to moss green.
Right on schedule, my favorite driver, dark glasses and white teeth and sharp cap, drove up and stopped right in front of me. I climbed on board.
"Morning," I said, and started walking toward the back of the bus.
"Dear," said the driver, "would you mind getting me a coffee when we get to Starbucks?"
He smiled and pressed $20 into my hand.
"Of course," I said. "How do you take it?"
He stopped the bus in front of Starbucks and I hopped down.
"I'll wait for you across the street," he said, and pointed to the bus stop up ahead.
I bought him his coffee - black with two sugars - pocketed his change and walked back out into the fog to meet the bus.
"Here you go, sir," I said, handing him his coffee, change, and napkins.
"Thanks, my dear," he said.
"You're welcome," I told him.
It felt strange and routine at the same time, an errand for a friend who's name I don't know. A $20 test of trust.
I hope the coffee kept him warm and focused on this damp, foggy morning.