I was waiting in line for my morning cup of coffee when someone said, "You have to be kidding me."

Looking up from my phone, I turned to see a Chinese dude around the same age as me. He looked like a university student—university, I guessed, because his presence exuded an air of judgmental intelligence and he knew it—with glasses, a graphic sweater and a backpack slung over one shoulder. That didn't discourage me though. You met another East Asian, and bam: There was this instant cultural thread of connection that eased the stress of talking with someone.

Taking note of his hearing aids, I used broken sign language to say, I wasn't joking with anyone? I fumbled for the correct signs, but he caught onto my confusion.

"No, I didn't mean that. I meant that." He nodded towards the front of the line, where there was a commotion. Through the snow-speckled windows of the shop, I saw a customer arguing with the cashier.

Who had the energy to argue this early in the morning? Maybe I should have gone to a different Tim Hortons. Then again, I hadn't thought that a sale on Pumpkin Spice lattes would create a longer line that spilled outside. The shop needed to invest in expanding. I doubted that any number of Tim Hortons springing up around the city would decrease the demand for caffeine though. Actually, it would increase, wouldn't it? No, that wasn't how supply and demand worked. I tried to recall the proper rule, but in the end reasoned that the average person would enjoy hot coffee on a cold day. I jumped up and down on the spot to keep myself warm.

All I knew was that taking into account the sidewalks, intersections, and construction obstacles, this Tim's location was the logical choice. The other branches were further away from my apartment.

The wind picked up. Snowflakes flew into my eyes. People took second glances at me, but it was cold, so I thought it wouldn't look out of place. Whatever the weather, mornings had an energy that zapped me to life. I could feel my heart beating, my nerves buzzing, the impulse to run a million laps. Jumping was one way to alleviate the restlessness. Without coffee though, I would be drained by the time the afternoon rolled around. Coffee was imperative. The only question was when I would get my coffee, exit with said coffee in hand, and face the rest of the day. Dread gathered in the pit of my stomach.

The guy behind me shifted. I stopped jumping and turned. "Am I bothering you?"

"Hmm?" His eyes fluttered open, and he stifled a yawn. "Bothering....? No, you're fine. Say, you look familiar. Have I seen you around?"

He articulated his words clearly, like he was delivering a presentation. It gave me the time to order up the sign language phrases in my head to match what I wanted to say. I don't know. If you go to this place every day, then probably.

"Nah, I usually go to the one on-campus, but apparently their coffee sucks. This line is ridiculous though. I'm going." He paused. "You're still going to wait?"

"Yeah," I said, uselessly waving my phone. Games and the Internet had me occupied. It was the quick answer. But in reality, it was a lot more. Lining up for coffee was the first real hurdle of the day. If you managed not to mess up a social interaction, it was a respite where time stopped and you could breathe. Coffee let my brain ruminate over everything at once, while staying in the present, because I haven't decided on what I wanted to do for the rest of my life. Planning my day was easy. Lining up my days to see they paved a haphazard route that led to Nowheresville was not preferred. I respected the guy. If he was in university, he likely knew what he wanted to do.

"You sure? Okay. Maybe we'll see each other around. Thanks for signing. I appreciate it. Not a lot of people know ASL."

I frowned, concentrating on what I wanted to say. I - learned in – university. I was in a self-led program which gave me the freedom to do the things I liked. I met a lot of great people that way, and wanted to communicate with them. Sometimes it's easier than speaking. It was slower too. I frantically rushed before the guy got impatient.

But when I was finished, he just grinned. "Out of school, huh? That's exciting." He took off his glasses and wiped the droplet-filled lens. "Think I'm going to go now. Nice talking."

He waved and trudged off to the nearest intersection. When I turned back around, the line had shortened. I went inside the shop, enjoyed the brief warmth and placed my order. I wondered if the caffeine courage would be enough to make me do something different today. Then I realized I already did: I'd made a friend in the city.