hoodie

it was my hoodie

old and wrinkled

stuffed in the back of my locker

half folded half forgotten

like most of my things

he was standing there

laughing

not at me

not with me

just existing

in that effortless way he does

like the world is light around him

i said something

something small

and opened the locker without thinking

the hoodie slipped out like it was waiting

he picked it up

held it by the sleeve

smiled that crooked smile

and pulled it on for half a second

arms halfway in

fabric falling wrong across his shoulders

and then

just as quick

he shrugged it off

handed it back

like nothing happened

but something did

because now it’s not just a hoodie

not just mine

it’s that moment

brief and ordinary

but burned into the soft lining like a memory i can wear

he’ll never know

how heavy that second became

how i still feel it

sometimes

like a warmth that never really left