one more cup of coffee

I remember the grown
man who hired me
leaving the office in tears
after he was fired.
white shirt, blue tie,
suspenders.
he carried his cardboard
box full of his
personal belongings,
pictures of his wife
and children, a trophy
for volleyball,
cups and ties with spills
on them.
tears rolled down
his cheeks into his mustache
as he walked down
the commercial carpet
of the airless hallway,
past the other offices
and staring faces.
he sobbed and wiped
at his tears,
but managed to stop
at the coffee machine
for one more cup
of coffee and a slice
of crumb cake
brought in for someone's
birthday.