Today was the first day that Gerald, the maintenance man, did not smile at me.

This morning, as I walked to the office, Gerald was power washing the ceiling of the Bishop’s carport. He wore a large yellow raincoat, the hood rounded over his bald head. I could barely see the tips of his rich, brown fingers past the long sleeves.  His legs were lost in big, black rain boots. He looked like a little boy. When I saw he wasn’t going to look at me, I skirted the wall as to stay out of the spray.

Yesterday, Gerald found out his wife has breast cancer.

He held the hose high above his head, and water rained down on him from every direction.


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