better than coffee

he caught my hand as i passed him at the door. for the briefest of moments, we stood apart- the length of my full-stretched arm. then he drew me close. my eyes were transfixed on his. i scarce heard his faint remark- how soft my hand was. i remember being surprised at the softness of his. i expected calluses, skin bumps that athletes' hands must have.

once, we watched a game together and i asked him if he missed playing. he looked at me and i regretted having to ask. i knew then that no matter how highly they place him in the hall of fame, he would always long for something time cannot give back.

i know him like i know everyone else in the office. he saw me through my worst drunken vomit episodes. we waded through the thickest mobs and he never once lost me. and i'm the only one from our side of the department on his Christmas list.

this morning when i came in, i met him at the lobby. i had no make-up on, my big curls were all over the place, and rubber shoes looked like they could really kick any hoodlum out of shape. but he smiled at me and told me he's glad i was one of the first people he saw today. he's better than caffeine.