3

Sometimes, to brighten my work days, I read books. A gentle romance, an intriguing detective, a mind-blowing adventure – my heart was open to any genre. Even long historical works, which at first glance seemed boring and drawn out, were read by me excitedly. Don’t exactly consider myself a book lover but when compared to some of my colleagues I may as well come off as an extreme bibliophile. 

My interest in fictional stories on paper raised many questions in my workplace. Everyone was perplexed as to how books written by humans, the most illogical and selfish of creatures, could be taken seriously. The question, “Do you really like reading this?” terrified me, as I had nothing to answer but silence. Being a newcomer among the experienced ones, the last thing I wished for was disapproval from older colleagues.

As I gained more experience and wisdom I couldn’t care less about ridiculous talks behind my back. I’ve been reading less, though, but that’s more from lack of free time.

I looked at the girl in front of me. Being on the brink of death, the only thing she thought about was taking another person’s life. She was not the first one to express such a desire, nor she was the last.

“So… Who do you want to kill?”

A couple of seconds passed before a short name meaning “wealth” came out of her mouth.

“What do you expect to gain from this?”

She timidly looked into my eyes and said, “A companion to hell.”

Humans are truly the most illogical and selfish of creatures. Often I have come across books with “bad endings”, where the beloved of the protagonist tragically died in his arms. People are afraid of death, and most of all of those dearest to them. There was a period when I delved into such a genre as “tragedy”, and night after night I read tearful stories about the grief of losing a loved one.

Until I met a little boy about 5 years old, whose face hundreds of years later I can hardly remember. Having no experience with children at that time, in order to pass the time until this kid’s imminent death, it was decided to put aside heartbreaking stories in favor of fairy tales with a happy ending. It was the first time I ever read a book out loud for someone to listen.

As soon as the story came to an end, the boy tugged at my sleeve and asked: “What about the bad guy? Is he dead?” Without thinking too much, I gave a short “no”, but perceiving the barely noticeable disappointment in his gaze, I hastened to add, “However, any food in his hands will turn into frogs. And so on until the end of his life.” The boy then joyfully jumped and genuine children’s laughter filled the room.

Till this day I reflect on how people, knowing firsthand about the pain of loss, can seek comfort in other people’s suffering.