January 28, 2026 #ismybestfriend

I woke up at 5:31 a.m.

Not because of Coco.
Not because of anxiety.
Not because of a weird dream.

Because the room felt… full.

I padded out to the lanai with my coffee, steam curling into the soft pink of a Southwest Florida sunrise. The sky looked like God had gone gentle with the paintbrush.

And there they were.

Already gathered.

Joe sat on the edge of a chair, Donna brushed against the screen with light passing through her like she was made of morning.

Catalina sat cross-legged on the floor, hoodie off, whispering to her dog.

Sally floated near the sage. Of course she did.

Lionel leaned on the rail, scarf fluttering, watching the sky.

You’re up early, I said.

Sally sniffed.

We had opinions.

I sipped my coffee and stayed quiet.

This felt like one of those mornings you don’t interrupt.

Lionel exhaled slowly.

He used to love mornings like this, he said softly.

Joe looked over.

Who?

Lionel smiled — not big. Not dramatic. Just real.

My husband. Fifty years. Before it was allowed. Before it was safe. Before anyone thought it was something worth celebrating.

Donna tilted her head.

He’s still living, isn’t he?

Lionel nodded.

Still watering the roses. Still listening to Barbra too loud. Still pretending he doesn’t talk to me when he does.

He paused.

We used to walk the beach at the Cape holding hands. People threw rocks. Bottles once. Yelled things I won’t repeat. So sometimes we’d walk ten feet apart and pretend we didn’t know each other… then meet back at the car and laugh like we’d pulled off a heist.

Catalina whispered, That’s heartbreaking and iconic.

Sally’s eyes softened.

It was. It is. Go on, she said quietly.

Lionel swallowed.

Every night, no matter how bad the day was… he’d touch my arm before falling asleep. Just once. Like… “I’m still here. You’re still mine. We survived today.”

He smiled.

I think that’s how I learned what love actually is.

Then he added, almost shy now,

And listen… I loved women too. I did. I dated them. I cared about them. I thought that was the life I’d live.

Joe nodded slowly.

But then I met him, Lionel said. And it wasn’t about bodies or labels or what box anyone wanted me in.

He looked out at the water.

It was his character. His kindness. The way he noticed things. The way he never left anyone behind - not even a stray dog or a nervous cat.

Cat’s dog lifted his head, ears perked.

Coco pretended not to hear.

Lionel shifted, pushing off the railing, more animated, hands moving as if he could see the moment right in front of him.

Did you know, he added, a soft laugh slipping out, he wouldn’t let me leave the house with my collar crooked?

He giggled, shaking his head.

He’d stand in front of me, fix it, button it properly, and say, “Now you look like you remember who you are.”

A beat.

He was my best friend… he said softly. He is my best friend.

No one spoke.

Even Coco seemed respectful.

Catalina finally broke it.

Okay but why am I emo at sunrise? This is not the algorithm I ordered.

Sally cleared her throat.

Yes, well. Feelings before coffee are rude.

She glanced at her nails.

Also, when is the next book being published? I refuse to peak emotionally without a release date.

Donna smiled at Lionel.

You shop?

Religiously, he replied.

We’re going, Donna said.

Joe blinked.

We’re?

Catalina wheezed.

Oh my God. He’s jealous. This is content.

Joe muttered,

I liked him first.

Sally patted his shoulder.

Darling, drink your java.

He did.

And I sipped my coffee too.

The light shifted.

One by one, they softened.

Joe first. Then Donna. Then Lionel.

Catalina and her dog last, mid-whisper, mid-laugh.

Only Sally remained.

She looked at me, softened for half a second.

Publish faster.

And she was gone.

Coco curled up.

The morning breathed.
​
And I smiled.