Hi five

Callous Hands sliding across the rail. Thin hands sweeping crumbs off the table. Small soft hands patting against the window. Thick hands looking for the perfect shade of red in the marker bin. And my hands, folded and calm. I waited for them to join me. They each came by that day, to rub the back of my smooth hand, or to hold it with a firm grip. But all of our hands embraced as we all said goodbye. I wave my hand in the air as a final farewill and my most loyal friends lowered my into my seat and pulled out a book for me. They turned each page after i was done and guided my reading line by line. A lady comes by and asks me if i want a drink. My hands express the size of coffee I would like and then guide the vessel to my lips. But then my eyes stray to the women across the asile trying to calm her baby down, and as my eyes neglect my helpful hands they trip and in jealousy dump the hot coffee on my lap. I jump up in shock and my hands are useless to me in this moment.