Once, I met a man

Once, I met a man. He rose and fell like the tides, and at his highest highs and lowest lows he always contemplated what he did or did not have. He was one day accosted by a group of thieves who beat him badly and took his possessions. For many years afterwards the man was afraid to go outside. He would spend his days in his room and, for lack of anything else to do, would tally what possessions he had over and over again and murmur reassuringly to himself. He became anonymous even to himself, experiencing even higher highs and lower lows.

He would no longer entertain at his home and let it fall into disrepair while he sat for months counting his possessions, every day being subjected to the most repugnant smell from the room next to his. The days went by and the smell became worse until the man could take it no more. On the day he decided the smell had become too much to bear he stood up, leaving his calculating equipment on the table, gleaming in the artificial light, and slowly opened the door leading out to a hallway. He sniffed inquisitively, as an animal does to reassure itself of its surroundings. He exited his room and stepped into the long, bright hallway. His nose led him to a door further up the hall, for the glare rendered him almost blind, and he opened it. The smell overwhelmed him as he entered the room into which the door opened. He persevered with a determination he did not know he had.

He scanned the room and his eyes fell upon a shrivelled body on the floor, near an old dressing table. The man wept horribly at length, took the body over his shoulder, and walked outside shielding his face from the blinding sun. He was truly free.