Feb 16, 2016

Out of whimsy

Purple clouds were in the sky when our protagonist exited the building. He had his body turned to the right, looking to the right, raised his right leg to walk towards the right, but something, like a unfinished idea, a half-forgotten thought, scuffed his eyes and pushed him to the left. And on the right, in the place where our man should have walked, a flowerpot exploded on impact with the ground.
This incident left our little hero perplexed. We are going to call him Michael, because that was his name, obviously. Michael looked at the pot and had a bizarre feeling: that Death was looking at the broken pot as confused as he was. And by God, he was right... I didn't understand what happened, I usually don't show up here for no reason.
Michael continued to go to work but began to stumble, to stagger down the street, trying to avoid a fatal next step, I followed him out of curiosity.
What happened? 10 minutes ago, 10 floors above, a cleaning lady opened a window and pushed a 10 kg pot on the window sill. 10 minutes before that, a neighbor from apartment 10 told the cleaning lady to give the flowers in the hallway some fresh air. And 10 minutes before that, our protagonist  Michael, told his girlfriend in apartment 10 that plants need to breathe just like any other animal. So you see, it's not my fault, Michael sentenced himself to death this morning.
But why did he step to the left and not the right? ... I know, I know what drew his eye, it was those purple clouds. I must admit they were beautiful, but to stop death? no, nothing is that beautiful.
Now ... I don't hunt people, it was only out of whimsy that I continued to watch Michael. I fallowed him and nothing extraordinary happened. Michael didn't slip on the rails in front of a rushing tram, he wasn't hit by a car that lost its brakes, he didn't have a heart attack or anything. I'm not saying I cause these, but they do happen ... they happen more often when I'm around. Michael arrived at his job safely, turned his back to me and started working.
So I said, I'll wait til he comes out, people rarely die while working.
Even this city, Michael's city, is a very curious place, people rarely die here, can you believe that no one died on New Years in this city? not even one, day off. Sitting on my butt, contemplating on the sidewalk, I was accosted by a girl with violet eyes.
-Leave him alone.
-Excuse me... Who are you? are you sick?
It happens, dying people sometimes see me. But no, this little girl wasn't dying, this little girl with the violet eyes, was the cause of the clouds. You don't really talk about her, but if I am Death, she would certainly be Life. This snot nosed brat was helping him.
-Why are you protecting him? He should be dead, one piece of garden variety pot in the head and if I'm allowed, it was almost a suicide, a major affront to you.
The girl frowned in the most cute fashion at me and continued.
-I know that flower didn't fall to the ground by chance. There wasn't a careless hand or the wind blowing, something else moved the pot.
Then she mumbled something about the patch of withered grass beside me and I was catapulted from the world of the living. I must admit I moved the pot, but slightly, almost not at all. I want to ask you something: how many people do your think die from flower pots? too few, this job is just like any other, you have to find some humor in what you do. Anyway, all the best and see you soon.

Art by RockAngel8
Versiunea în română: Doar un capriciu

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