"Yes?" she asked, softly. The door opened up and a big bearded man came through, all sweaty and panting. "Oh, it's you. Come in". Only then she noticed how tired he seemed to be. "What happened?"
"Ohm... The bus... I missed...the bus.". Words came hard from his throat, she could tell. "I had to... to run. To catch it, I mean", he concluded. It was not the first time this happened to Bob. Since Eleanor started working at this office, she noticed how Bob was always trying so hard on himself. He really was a good person, but he was too much naive and people were always mocking him. But she helped when she could, specially covering for him when he was late for work. Only in the last three weeks, it had occurred seven times, included when he missed the bus and tried to catch it by running after it, like today. He kept running and running, until he noticed he had come all the way to the office on his feet. But even then he wasn't looking this bad. "Did you catch it, then?". She smiled. "Huh?". Bob was still panting, seated on a chair in front of his desk, grabbing his backpack all pale skin and red eyes. "Forget it. I'll grab you a glass of water". She left the room where they work and crossed the hall made of windows. The right windows showed the big city beneath them and the left ones her coworkers, more than she could count. I don't even know their names. She finally made it to the cafeteria, grabbed a plastic cup and filled it with cool water. As she was making her way back, she noticed how hot the sun was from the right side of the hall. No wander Bob was all sweaty. It looks like hell, outside. She entered in their office, and handed the cup. He drank it with greediness. And, in the end, still panting, he said to her "Gray... is so lucky... And your kids too. You're awesome, El... Thanks for the water, by the way." "You're welcome, Bob!". She laughed and looked at the photo of her family on the desktop of her computer. I'm the lucky one.
0 Comments
Silence will be all there is left for me and I'll die.
Silence is, within me, a set of echoes colliding and nullifying themselves without touching each other.
Is it tomorrow that never comes or is it today that never ends?
|
Archives
January 2024
© 2011-2024 Pedro Simão Mendes
|