When I don’t walk with my hands in my pockets, I feel him, his hand in mine, as I walk, though he is never there nor will be again.

I always dread walking to work. It’s always nice in the morning, the sky so light and pretty, barely anyone or any cars in sight. You can almost smell the brewing coffee in the houses you pass; hear the gentle breathing of those still sleeping. Mornings are amazing when you’re walking the path I walk to work. Unless you’re me of course.

I have a memory of a similar walk, one taken at night rather then the morning, one that will probably haunt me every time I walk the path. It was one of those starlit walks, with a lover down the dimly lit road, guided by nothing but two beating hearts. His hand was threaded through mine the entire time; his hand was threaded through mine for a month before he disappeared.

After that walk, I never saw him again.

I didn’t get a phone call, a letter, e-mail, fax, not even a dream. Well, I did dream. He was in my dreams every night for a month, until I forgot his face. I didn’t even have a picture of him. I almost forgot about him, until six months later, he came to me in a dream again. I woke up crying.

That morning was a Sunday. I had to work, so I got myself up and ready. I work at a local diner as a waitress, nothing to fancy, nothing that pays well, but it gets me by. I didn’t want to walk that morning, and was just going to call a cab, but when I looked out my window, what I saw just looked so inviting, I couldn’t resist the walk.

As always, I walked with my hands in my pockets. It was such a nice day though, I pulled them out, and as I did, I thought I felt another hand grip mine, I could have sworn I felt the warmth of another hand, but there was no one there. I remembered my dreams, and almost started crying again, but I willed back the tears, and putting my hands in my pockets, I continued on my way.

But what happens if that lover you haven’t seen, have been dying to see, appears, and walks towards you with the smile and stride that you fell for in the first place?

Well, I don’t know what you would do, but I’ll tell you what I did. I dropped the teacup that I had in my hand on the ground, where it smashed into perfectly broken pieces. One of my fellow waitresses ushered me away from the scene and called the bus boy to clean up as she lead me to the bathrooms to clean me up, as I was in a daze and had hot tea all over me.

"What happened?" I asked her suddenly, coming out of my daze.

"I’m not sure, but it wasn’t good. You sure know how to get everyone’s attention though!" she said with a smile, handing me a wet cloth.

I wiped my shirt down the best I could, but it was hopeless. My boss would probably send my home early, or worse, if I saw my lover in my section of the diner, I would demand to go home.

With my rotten luck it was the latter.

I returned to the floor of the diner, cleaned up the best I could to find him sitting and waiting alone in one of the booth on the far wall. He was looking out the window, so I was able to walk past him without actually having to look at his face again.

"This is not happening." I muttered to myself, as I stalked to the kitchen.

As I entered, I grabbed the sign in book and wrote my sign out time.

"What do you think you are doing?" my boss asked me, sounding aggravated, as he cooked.

"What does it look like?" I snapped back, but quickly took it back. "I’m sorry. I’m not feeling well. I shouldn’t have come in this morning. You’re going to have to call in someone. I apologize."

"Fine, fine. You go home and rest. I’ll be sending someone by with some soup for you. You’re not eating or sleeping right it seems girl. Now get home."

I nodded and slipped out the back door.

Every night I prayed to every God, wished on every star, and hoped with every living fiber in my body that my love would come.

Around five, there was a knock on my door. I didn’t want to answer it, but I remembered my boss saying he would send someone around with some soup, and decided it was in my best interest to answer you. You’d have to be crazy to turn away my boss’ homemade soup. He truly is a master chief.

When I opened the door, I almost dropped the glass of ginger ale that I had in my hand. He was standing there, with a container of hot soup. He seemed nervous as he stood there and avoided make eye contact with me.

"I over heard you boss talking about you, saying you were sick. I became worried, and talked to him, and he asked if I would bring you some soup around dinnertime. And well, here I am I guess." He managed to stammer out, his mouth barely moving.

This wasn’t the man I remembered. The man I knew was cool, confident, nothing could shake him. He had always puzzled and perplexed me, but now I was just confused.

"You were worried? It took seven months and mention of me being ill for you to worry. Then again, that’s what you always were like." I said, staring at him, daring his eyes to focus on mine, but they didn’t.

"Look, I’m sorry, but I couldn’t possibly explain. You completely took me over, you haunted my every hour, it scared me. And it just wasn’t when we were together. For the past seven months, you have been the only thought on my mind." He said, final looking up at me.

"Olivia, who’s at the door?" my new lover called from the hall, coming to stand in behind me at the door.

"Just a worried customer, here to bring me some soup. Thank you." I said with a coy smile, taking the soup container. "It was very kind of you."

He looked my new lover up and down, frowned slightly, then nodded, and with a wave, he was gone.

Love is a virtue, hold it close, cherish, but never waste it, on the things that will never matter.