The Happy Man - Flash Fiction

As I was busy running around the office, filling papers and typing up reports, I realized I had not gotten to the bathroom all morning. For some reason, when you are active, even in a job you don’t desire, you forget about that part of your body. I stood up at my desk and thought about the urge to suddenly pee.

To my luck, the office bathroom has been broken for the past few months, and I don’t think that anyone will be fixing it anytime soon. There is a bathroom in the hallway that all of us have been using in the meantime, and surprisingly, there has not been a line outside of it yet.

I walked into the hallway down the corridor and by the staircase, where you can see outside of the building into the clear windows. Now, there is nothing in this view but the parking lot, but it is the first time I get to see the outside, as my office has a very limited view, being that it doesn’t have any windows. I made a note to look outside the window after I went to the bathroom.

I knocked on the bathroom door and heard a voice holler, “Occupied!” Hearing that, I went back inside my office to wait a little bit to use the bathroom. I must have gotten busy with another task, one I can’t even recall at the moment, if I am honest. The point is, the next moment I was free, I went back outside to the bathroom to see if it was still occupied.

The door was slightly open, and nobody was inside. I approached the toilet and saw toilet paper on the ground, as though someone had ripped it and thrown it down. I saw what looked like a foggy mirror with the two numbers 6 and 7 in barely visible writing. To what I could surmise, whoever was in the bathroom last was not well and appeared to barely be able to function. They ripped the toilet paper and wrote down those two annoying numbers that the young kids are saying for no apparent reason.

I took no more interest in the psyche of the last individual in the room and went ahead and relieved myself. Once I was done, I washed up the best I could, skipping the part where I looked into the mirror, obviously. Before heading back into the office, I walked by the staircase to get a good view of the parking lot, for spring has just arrived, so the scene should be pleasant to the eyes.

There was an older gentleman I had never seen around the office, standing by the staircase, looking out at the window when I got there. I commented, “We have great weather today. Spring is finally here.”

I expected no more of the conversation, but the stranger had other plans in mind, “Eh, I suppose so. It is a sad day for me.”

Now, when someone tells you they are having a sad day, you are not really obligated to comply with their emotional state, but I felt awkward leaving that remark alone, and responded back to the stranger, “Oh, why is it?”

I didn’t want him to answer. I wanted to look out at the parking lot, see the nice weather, and then go back into the office. Nothing more.

“I had just lost a friend. He was a good man, you know that?” I said nothing, even though I wanted to apologize for the loss. The old stranger continued, “He just understood life. He got what this was all about. Nobody today does anymore. We lost sight of who we were and what we were about. He got it. He was the happiest man I ever met.”

I stood there unsure of what to say, since I knew the conversation was not over, so ending it would be rude, but continuing it was not a route I wished to take either. I decided with a straightforward question. “What made him so happy?”

“Oh, man. He just understood things. Not like people today, who seem not to get anything. Not Walt, though. He got it.” The stranger turned to me as though to clarify, “His name was Walt.” He then went back to reminiscing about his friend. “I knew him my entire life, and there was no one who was happier than him. He just… he was so happy to always pay his taxes. Nothing made him happier.”

“He did what?” The last comment threw me off guard.

“He always paid his taxes. It gave him so much joy when he did it.”

I stumbled with my words. “I…. I mean, as long as he was happy, I guess.”

The stranger nodded his head. “He understood life so well, Walt. I miss him.”

Just then, a co-worker walked over to me, as though she was looking for me. She made a gesture to me as though I was needed back inside. I left the old stranger standing by the staircase and went back to the reports of the day.

I went back into the grind of the day, helping clients, writing reports, and running around. Later in the evening, when no one was around, I thought about the conversation I had by the staircase, and what made Walt so happy. I am still unsure about the entire exchange.

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