A donation and a gift

Day 5

I wished I'd asked for his number. Benjamin wasn't where he usually stood, and I was starting to wonder if I was just being creepy. Or weird. Normal people didn't actively search for the people who pester for donations. Normal people didn't feel like talking to them about things. Normal people didn't feel like knowing them.
    That day at the cafe, it was like he had gently pulled out a band aid. Or maybe, I was the one that did it. I don't know. He made me want to talk, want to confess. He'd make a good priest, sitting on the other side of the confession box. He'd make serial killers want to confess their crimes.
    I enjoyed the wind. The sky wasn't too bright, or dark, either. Just right. So I guess I would have expected him to show up. But he wasn't anywhere to be seen. I even went into the cafe. Not there either.
    What if he never showed up again? At least I knew he was alive and out there, but it felt like I had lost a friend. Like he'd taken that band aid and disappeared. Ran away.
    Inhale. Exhale. I guess I didn't hide my disappointment that well anymore, because a lady on the train gave me a tissue and a pitiful smile.