I ordered a breakfast sandwich from a local deli. After calling I got caught up with work and it took me about half an hour to arrive there. No biggie. I march in, walk to the counter, and say, “I’m Matt. I ordered an egg sandwich.”

The owner of the deli, an old guy who stands about 5 feet tall, looks at his watch and says, “I was worried about you.”

“You’re the only one,” said as a joke. A little quip. A meaningless rejoinder with a semi stranger. A nothing burger with a side of yawn.

He stops and stares at me with a look of concern. Already I know I’ve misspoken. I’ve misread the room. He places the sandwich on the counter and looks up at me over his glasses. Uh-oh. I knew instantly that this was my moment to say I was just kidding. But the moment came and went. The old man sighed heavily and looked meaningfully up at me.

“You’re really going through it, huh?” he said. “Divorce, huh?”

“I’m sorry, what?”

Suddenly, I feel a hand on my shoulder from behind. It’s a 40 something year old construction worker with an orange vest. “Hey pal, I’m going through it right now too. I’m not gonna’ tell you it’s easy but it will get easier…in time.”

And what did I say? Not a thing.

And then the deli guy hands me the sandwich and tells me he’s been through divorce twice and it made him feel like a failure. He explains that I should stay near the kids.

“Don’t let your ex keep you away from your kids,” said the construction worker behind me. “You’re divorcing your wife, not your kids.”

At this point I felt like I couldn’t just say I’d just been joking. The wave of sympathy, shared pain, and openness my snark had instigated was too much to reject by telling them I’m happily married with four wonderful kids and my son.

The deli man hands me the sandwich and tells me to look forward, never behind. So I took the sandwich and didn’t look back. Just forward.

So now I have a choice. Either I never go back to the deli or I divorce my wife. Those sandwiches are really good. I’ll ask my wife what I should do.