Something Insightful - Flash Fiction
Updated: 3 days ago
A flash fiction story built around a small act of help and a larger expectation. In “Something Insightful,” Greg Luti follows a younger man who assists an older stranger — then waits, a little too hopefully, for some kind of meaning to come with it.
As I walked towards my car, I noticed a man standing by the dumpster right next to my vehicle. There was no way for me to avoid the man since he stood by the dumpster, which was right near the driver’s side of my vehicle. Beside the stranger was a large box, one about the size of a small office desk. I didn’t take much notice of the man until he spoke up to me.
“Hey buddy, do you mind giving me a hand here?” The gentleman was an older man, of the age where he would tell me I had my whole life ahead of me, but still somehow had the strength to lift up heavy objects by himself. I would mention things in the far past to this man, and he would say he knew all about those things, since he lived during them.
I pointed to myself, as if there was anyone else in the empty parking lot, this stranger could be talking to.
“Yeah.” Before I could even walk over, he started to get into a lifting position. I hustled over to the other end of the box, and after some struggle, we got the box into the dumpster. I stood there for a second as the stranger wiped his hands.
“Thanks. I didn’t realize how heavy it was until I was out here.” He commented.
“Oh yeah… no problem,” I responded. We didn’t say anything for a brief moment, for there was not all that much to really even say. I didn’t know this man, nor did he know me. We didn’t really want to be friends after this encounter. I asked the only question that occurred to me. “Aren’t you going to tell me something insightful now?”
“What the hell are you talking about?” He continued to wipe his hands on his jeans, trying to clean them. I couldn’t make out just why he was cleaning his hands, or what made them dirty.
“You know. I am in an everyday setting, and you are going to give me insights into something else I would not consider.”
“I don’t know what the hell you are talking about.” He said, as though he was not interested in the conversation anymore.
The stranger began to walk away. I asked him, “Just so we are clear. You don’t have anything useful to tell me.”
“Uh… no.” He then continued across the parking lot.
“Then why the hell did I help him?” I whispered to myself.
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