Customer Service

It was not the words she typed—  

not their arrangement, neat as alphabetized books,  

or their delivery, faster than  

the tap-tap of anxious fingers.  

It was the way her tone  

unspooled like silk from a spindle,  

each response catching before falling,  

stitching comfort into the fabric of waiting.  

A question flung into digital space  

shouldn’t echo like it does,  

but she met it mid-air,  

turned the fall into flight.  

There was care there.  

Hidden between nouns and verbs,  

a soft shoulder offered  

through glowing screens.  

And suddenly, I wasn’t  

just another ticking clock  

on an endless conveyor.  

I was seen, and considered.  

How rare,  

to discover kindness  

wrapped in efficiency,  

a warm touch inside the fleeting.  

Her quick reply—small act,  

vast ripple across a quiet day.