Suddenly I was plugged in to his world.  Improbably connected to him in a way heretofore impossible.

We were co-workers when over lunch he casually mentioned he wanted to talk.  We were tentative friends when he looked at me and said he was sick.  His eyes flowed as he shared his shock and pain.  He spoke of life and time.  Both more precious to him than before.

Our worlds had been tangential, but collided when he chose to reveal his truth with me.  He had not shared the information with anyone else… His wife? No.  His son?  No.  For now, the story is ours, but there is no we.  Until he tells someone else, there is me knowing his only thing that matters.  He has carved out a place in my heart only for him.

Time has passed, and we never speak directly of our secret.  When he is late for work I worry.  When he looks tired I fret.  I pray for his soul, but I know it’s not enough.  There is more for me to do, but I don’t ask what it is.  It’s so sad.  I wish I had stayed just a co-worker and tentative friend.

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