It was a routine for both of us. We live in the same building. We breathe the same salty air from the bay. I am a student and not a good one. He works the graveyard and it's not a good thing. That 7:15 AM in the clock downstairs is our moment, our time together, ours. The instant he enters the building to rest is the exact instant I leave for school. We would cross each other's path on the platform of the 5th-floor stairs. He says hello, I say hello, not a word more. Always like that.
He gets me at hello. I lose him at hello.
I like the casualness of our little interaction. It makes me think that I am part of his life. I am scared to move further though. A word more might jam our connection. A word less might drop the small thing we have.
I like it more this way. Short but true.
Tragic but true.
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