Unreplaceable

That is what 20 years of routine does to you, but he can´t see that.

While thinking with the eyes shut, he feels the cab stopping, then pays and thanks the cab driver.

There is a grey, non-Victorian, building. He enters. There is no body else in the cold lobby, but the guard and himself. The paper where visitors immortalise their presence reminds him of the daily reports from second floor. Steps fade in from a door on the back. The lack of light in the room hides Mr.Wealth until he is in front of him.

-”You must be Mr. Fliswick” they do not shake their hands, “follow me please”.

He follows Mr.Wealth to the back room. Inside there is a green couch where people wait for their turn. Floor and celling are covered with white mosaics, which reminds him of the toilets high school.

Unreplaceable

He steps out of the rain and walks quickly out to the exit of the station. Blue suit, white shirt, middle age man, under 50. On his way out he reads the adds on the walls, he recognizes 2 of them, one is showing a country on the middle east, it´s dusty and dark.
Out of the station it´s raining. He finds there is a man selling umbrellas, most of the buyers are tourists, probably from the U.S. There is another man selling imitation bags. Soon a policeman is noticed by the vendors, who now get on the move.
The middle man calls a cab and tells the driver to get to Bitler road. Inside of the cab the driver is a 60 year old man from the north of England, probably Darlington. He tries to talk with the passenger, without much success.
On the head our subject statistics and tendencies of last couple of days at work seems to diffuse the fact that now he is alone. No matter where he goes, he knows that he lost something unreplaceable.

Fear

Mucho de lo que dejamos de hacer, de lo que no hacemos es por miedo.

Lo vi el otro dia