I knew already it was going to be a long day: I had woken up late, very late. I had had to skip breakfast, running, the morning paper. A silent curse crossed my lips as I remembered I was supposed to have finished that stupid work project the previous night! Son-of-a-bitch, I knew I'd forget. It occurred to me that the four beers which had started out as just one hadn't helped. That also explained the skull cramp. I looked out the window, it was early April and there was still snow on the ground. Wait, what was that? Snow flakes? "You must be joking", I thought, it was almost Tax Day, and still snowing? The fucking April snow was coming down heavy and wet, the kind that nearly breaks your back when you shovel it. Taxes! I remembered I needed to finish my return by the following Tuesday. How, I wondered, was I going to figure out the cost basis for those stocks, and where was the HUD settlement sheet for the new house? That thought was interrupted by another as I tried to recall when the movers were scheduled for, my release date from that hellhole of an apartment... memories of the fist-shaped holes in the walls, needing to be fixed before I moved out elbowed their way into my already overcrowded mind. "God" I muttered. I really needed to get going I thought, it would take even longer to get to work now, as everyone would be driving so absurdly slowly. Ok, jacket on, boots on, I hoped they'd salted Limekiln Road, or some idiot would inevitably have found a way to take that one turn too fast, run off the road and cause a backup. I shut the door behind me, walked over to the elevator and hit the button. The door opened, I stepped in, hit the button for the ground floor and leaned back against the wall, shutting my eyes, trying to catch a moment of respite from the already rotten day. The day couldn't possibly get worse, I thought, hoped, prayed. Just as the door was closing a hand shot through. No, it wasn't, it couldn't be, God couldn't be that unjust, could he? But it was. It was The Asshole from down the hall. That one. The one who always played music too loud, too late, who had drunken parties during which his friends would park in my spot, puke in the hallway. And no, he wouldn't clean it up until I threatened to call the landlord on him... again. That one. Things were very "polite" between us though, as we both understood the unfortunate consequences of what would happen if either of us really lost our temper: you know, police, district attorneys, bad stuff. The Asshole stepped in, looked at me, his eyes barely concealing the contempt in which he held me. I returned the stare. I begged for a pretext, any pretext really. I'd always wondered how useful my years of karate would be in real life. The Asshole, ok, "Bob" if you must know, looked at the illuminated ground floor button and faced the front, graciously assuming a position as far from me as possible. All I had to do was not kill him for 3 floors, that was all. Simple, right? I stared at the wall in front of me. All would be well, I told myself, 20 seconds to go. Then Bob spoke. "Pretty late for snow, eh?". Wishing to maintain the facade of politeness, I responded "Yeah, now I'll probably be late for work, too". Bob stared at me, the hint of a smile crossed his lips. He hit the button for the second floor and said "I guess you will be". Something inside me snapped with an almost audible "pop". I was going to have to slay him, right then and there. There would be an investigation, they would certainly find out who had done it, I would go to jail, be executed, my life was over. I didn't care one whit. My fist clenched, I took a step to the side, winding up for that first blow. Just as I was about to launch my murderous attack, the bell sounded and the elevator stopped. The doors opened and the cute girl from the second floor looked up, my violent plans foiled. The Universe had yet again taken the side of those who already had everything, now denying me the simple pleasure of killing Bob. The hopelessness of my life hit me like a sledgehammer: trapped in a shitty job, doomed to loneliness, crawling further into the bottle every day, predestined to step aside as the imprudent and carefree passed me by, obtaining everything they'd ever desired. Bob-The-Asshole had everything it seemed, including the ability to elicit in me the kind of rage I had spent 20 years trying to suppress through psychotherapy, booze, hours and hours of thinking of.... nothing and the oneness of all of humanity at the local Bhuddist temple. The cute girl, whose name I didn't know said "Hi". The shock of her voice gave me a second's pause, my homicidal fist still clenched and ready for action. Without a clear plan, I fled out of the elevator and onto the second floor, pushing past my nameless neighbor. She looked at me, quite rightly, as though I had lost my mind, and stepped into the elevator. The doors closed. As the elevator resumed its descent, I thought I heard Bob and the girl laugh. I headed for the stairs, and resumed my journey out into the world.
Henri woke up late that day, quite late. He hadn't really meant to drink an entire 6-pack the night before, it was supposed to just be one or maybe two beers. His lateness caused him to miss breakfast, running and the morning paper. His growing alcoholic tendencies had recently led to other problems: forgetting work assignments, what his therapist would probably have diagnosed as depression, anxiety, a loss of control over his own life, his temper. While he drank to cover up and forget his shyness and sense of inadequacy, it really just aggravated the problems. These were lessons he had yet to learn. Henri had spent years in therapy trying to master his inner demons. He had recently taken up meditation at a local Bhuddist temple, tantalized by the possibility of discovering the inner peace and happiness which eluded him. He was aware of the self-defeating aspects of some of his behavior, but was seemingly unable to really do anything about them, to escape the seemingly inevitable path his life was on. The escape he found in alcohol had led him to procrastinate starting on his tax return which was due the next Tuesday. Having just bought a house, he had scheduled the movers during an early "cocktail hour" but was now unable to recall when that was. In a drunken rage, he had put his fist through the sheetrock a few times, requiring him to fix it sometime before he moved, whenever that was. All of this added to a sense of overwhelmed hopelessness which hung over him like Damocles’ sword. Had Henri not overslept, he would have read the paper and known it was supposed to snow and would not have been surprised to see it doing so when he looked out the window. He may have left a little earlier for work, leaving time for the reduced speed of traffic or the possible accident on Limekiln road, locally known for a particularly treacherous curve, luring many into the ditch on such a day as this. But he didn't. Instead, Henri looked out the window, saw the snow, and in what was now a common occurrence, freaked out. Hurriedly putting on his boots and jacket, he walked out into the hallway of his cheap apartment and hit the button calling the elevator. Stepping into the elevator, Henri leaned against the back wall, closed his eyes and tried to remember how to meditate, something about thinking of nothing except the oneness of humanity. Just as the doors closed, his neighbor, Bob, stuck his hand in and forced the doors open. Startled, Henri looked up with surprise and dread at the sight of Bob, who he despised. The feeling was mutual. Henri hated Bob for having the life he wanted: he had an easy, good-paying job, which he liked, a lot of friends, particularly girlfriends, a life full of fun and parties in which the laws of causality were seemingly suspended. Bob had parties at least twice a month which he invited the whole building to attend. Whether out of shyness or self-pity and resentment, Henri never went. Had he gone, he might have met Lucy who lived one floor below and who was secretly rather taken with him for reasons she only partly understood. But he didn't. Instead he sat in his apartment listening to the loud music, cursing all these people who managed to live carefree and in the moment. How would the world function if everyone lived like that? He would ask himself, echoing the voice of his parents. Bob saw Henri as an angry bitter man with no sense of humor, someone just like his Dad who had always tried, unsuccessfully, to make him "buckle down" and "be responsible". Bob had never been willing to give up the joy he found in living an unscripted life for some nebulous promise of future happiness. He was not yet old enough, mature enough to understand that there are indeed usually, eventually, unpleasant consequences to a recklessly lived life. It isn't clear he would have cared if he did. Bob wasn't an evil person, just somewhat full of himself and very impulsive, rarely thinking much before doing things. As Bob walked onto the elevator, he saw Henri. Wishing to lighten the tension instantly filling the air, Bob said something about the weather. Henri responded by mentioning how the snow would probably make him late for work, but the tension remained palpable. Wishing to make a joke, Bob hit the button for the second floor and said something to the effect that Henri would now certainly be late. In Henri's mind, years of suppressed rage at the injustice of the universe and his own self-loathing boiled over, erupting in a black wall of hatred directed at Bob. It is unfortunate that karate students are not psychologically screened before being allowed to train, as Henri planned in that moment to misuse every bit of his decade of training to kill Henri. Henri clenched his fist and was about to launch his assault when the elevator stopped on the second floor. The doors opened to show Lucy staring idly at the floor. Lucy looked up and saw Henri, her heart briefly inflating with joy. She looked at Henri and said "Hi". Startled, Henri paused, his murderous plans interrupted by the sound of Lucy's voice. Henri, desperately seeking to escape his situation, leapt past Lucy and out onto the second floor. As the elevator doors closed and Lucy and Bob continued their journey, Bob made some comment about Henri being even more uptight than usual, and laughed. Lucy, not knowing what else to do, gave a nervous little laugh which she instantly regretted, having seen both the anguish on Henri's face and the self-assured arrogance on Bob's. Henri, after a moment's pause, found his way to the stairwell, to work and to a new day.
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