You'll never hear me say "thank you" with a whisper.

Sometimes we all have those days. It is usually an in between day where a muggy gray sky finally turns to rain. My friend who was a stranger sat down with me held my hand. I didn’t have to explain I am not the easiest person to reach or please forget it I’ll be fine. I was nearly defenseless so I let her sit with me. She sat there with her perfectly made up Latin eyes blanketed by thick long hair. She was beautiful in the way that only she in that moment could ever be.

It was just one of those days but I knew she had ached where I had ached.

She didn’t know about the time I ran away when I was nine because it was too much or the day I found my fathers dead body. She didn’t know that when I was 6 I wanted to be a country singer or about the joke I tell too often, “I would sing but I would hate to alienate you as I have a voice of angels” because I can’t sing. She only knew me though passing moments here and there, social interactions but she understood me. She had no reason to befriend me but did it anyway, against the popular vote.

When she sat with me I felt the burden of having to carry myself home lifted. I found a friend who without knowing reminded me to look around open up and give, sometimes the kindness of a friend is all we need to get us through a bad moment.

the world where we hide our loneliness

there are three models that lived upstairs from Mrs. Kuban. She was always yelling about them

around the top of her head in their high heels.
they are good looking but looking
really hungry.

Downstairs, Mrs. Kuban,
an operating-room nurse,
suffered a gash in her head that required stitches and had two broken bones in her foot.

Still for all for Mr. Kuban did he couldn’t find her heart. He lost it years ago.

The day Mrs. Kuban came home from the hospital I watched through the little
hole in my front door
the three girls, the models laughed but later
one went back when she thought no one was looking and brought Ms. Kuban fruit

I was looking.