Unknown

Later Oct 15th

After my lunch break, after work and once I walked into my apartment building I could feel the weight of reality settle in. I don't have the 4 piece collection for my job or inspiration to fall back on, no grandfather and no one to comfort me in my time of need. 

My eyes were facing the floor trying I'm my hardest not to have to look into anyones eyes. Once I walk to the opening of the hallway I look up, unable to ignore his presence. On the opposite end of the hallway, sitting on a bench that was placed beneath the window was Mr. Oyama. 

He's looking out of the window with a cup of, I'm guessing, Tea in one hand and another cup sitting on the bench still hot, as if waiting for it's guest to arrive. I stop at the foot of the hallway and look at him sighing softly to myself. He feels my presence as I did his, he squints thru his glass and smiles gently looking my direction. 

I walk up to him gazing at the lonely cup of, well now it looks like, hot chocolate with marshmallows, then back up at him with a lifted brow. We exchange a silent conversation. Is this for me? He shrugs politely gesturing towards the cup If you'll have it, its yours. 

I drop my things on the floor next to the bench, pick up the cup, sit down and place it in my lap. I stare at the marshmallows, continuing to avoid eye contact. Once I look up there he was looking into my eyes concerned with his brows furled. I sigh "My grandpa passed away... a month ago" I take a breath. "Alice told me too late and I missed his passing and his funeral" I look back down feeling the tears swell in my eyes.

I feel his hand grab one of the hands that was holding the cup, I look back at him. He's smiling with tears in his eyes as well. I'm surprised, I haven't seen him anything but happy since I've met him. I give him a soft but sad grin. Mr. Oyama then said "Tell me, about him." 

For the next 30 mins I sip my chocolate and talk to him, telling him everything there is to know about my grandpa. He sits patiently listening to each story, we laugh at certain parts, tear up at others, reminiscing and sipping our drink till its cold and finished. 

Mr. Oyama is a 67 year old Japanese man, I lived here about two months before he moved in across the hall. He use to live in the middle of the city but thought it was too busy for him. I saw he needed help with his boxes, I figured he would have had the move in company bring the boxes upstairs for him. But he's too humble, to hardworking for his own good, he refused their help.

 I wouldn't allow him to refuse mine, as he picks up the smaller items I grab the heavier ones and haul them up the steps to his apartment. We had small talk during and after his move in. He offered tea and cake once we were done, but with nothing prepared I invited him into my home and made sandwiches. 

We talk on occasion before and after I get off work. He's retired now, living in a downsized apartment with his small cat passing the time with medial conversations at the park and playing RPGs on twitch for his fans that like to watch him, his fans know me as the tall black man that doesn't talk, they make fun that I'm his guardian angel, but in a way I take it seriously. Yet, after today, it feels the opposite like he's mine.

We could see the sun started to go down, the way the sunlight reflects off of the buildings around us, I still hadn't gotten undressed from work and we both seemed too tired to continue the conversation. One thing we have in common is that we don't like to talk too much.

"Please tell me you'll be alright, after last night I was worried." He looks up at me. He probably heard all the commotion last night, the late night liquor runs to the store. "I promise, thank you for talking to me. You remind me of him, I'm glad I have you around old man." I stood up placing the cup on the bench to then grab my things off the floor.