MISS MOOX + time

Little things

It's funny sometimes how tiny, seemingly completely insignificant incidents can sometimes have a far more profound influence than their outward manifestation, a tiny stone being thrown into a pond and sending out far-reaching ripples.

This morning when I came into work I headed first of all for the kitchen, as always, to make my morning cup of tea. Also headed in the same direction was Robert. Robert fuels himself with endless cups of foul coffee from the company coffeepot and is forlorn and bearish until it has finished brewing.

"How are you, Robert?" I greeted him.

"Pretty good," he replied, disappearing into the kitchen. "Better, once that little red light has come on!" he exclaimed, realizing that the coffeemaker was still steaming and putzing away on its brew cycle.

I laughed and threw back some teasing remark. As we passed in the doorway, he on his way out, I on my way in, he suddenly grabbed my arm with a concerned look. "Are you OK?" he asked, looking into my face intently.

I immediately realized why. "Oh, I have a problem with my eyes that makes them tear up all the time," I explained. "It's nothing. Thanks, though, Rob," I added as he went on his way again.

A tiny incident. A nothing, in the daily spectrum of human interaction.

But it touched something.

I don't realize how guarded I am. How carefully I shield myself against showing any kind of vulnerability, of displaying emotion, of relying on anyone for consolation or support. Especially, how little I believe in masculine goodness or the capacity of men to comfort and protect.

If I had really been crying, would I have revealed that to Robert, or to anyone else? No. But if I had, he would have shown sympathy.

It just gave me a little glimpse. Of what could be, and the fact that there are still good men out there.

It was nice.

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