Missing Wit

20: It All Starts With a Child

  Eric was having breakfast in his apartment. Unlike other days, he had been able to sleep uninterruptedly last night. Along his coffee, he had a few slices of tomato, some cheese, and an egg. He had his breakfast in fifteen minutes. He washed his hands in the kitchen. Then, he returned to his room. His goal was to get his tablet. But, something else caught his eye when he looked out the window of his room. Eric's bedroom window faced a cul-de-sac at the back. A woman was cornered by a man in that street. Seeing this, Eric searched for his phone. It didn't take him long to find the phone, as it was next to the coffee table by the window he was looking out of. Just when he was about to call the police, when he saw the cops coming, Eric took his tablet and left the room.

There was a strange smell in the apartment space. It smelled like rotten and burnt meat. Eric continued down the stairs, ignoring the smell, as Eric was leaving this apartment in a few days. When he came to the entrance of the apartment, he realized that a smell was coming from a cat. The cat was killed and burned at the protests last night. This neighborhood was causing Eric more pain every day. He covered this place he didn't want to see again with his coat and continued on his way.

The meeting place today was Paul's house. Eric was happy to go to that house for the last time. He would never see that architectural betrayal called 'home' again. Also, today was the last day of the story, which was a plus. The veil of secrecy on this story, which would be an important lesson in the history of humanity, would be lifted today. Eric had found an unprecedented opportunity as a journalist. He hadn't turned down this opportunity, he would have ended it like it deserved. He had endured the people—and cultural betrayals—with whom he had worked for three days, toiled day and night, whom he had never wanted to put up with before; would conclude them today. Eric was thinking about this as he boarded the bus.

Eric got off the bus and lit a cigarette. It would take a street walk. He remembered the first day he walked while walking. Everything was like what happened today. The air, the river flowing next to it, the smell of algae stuck to the walls by the river... After walking for a while, Eric came to the street where Paul's house was located. He raised his finger again and cursed the house. Then, he walked towards Paul's house. He knocked on the door after climbing the stairs. It was Paul's maid who opened the door. She was more tired than last time, her expression as if she had received bad news. He invited her in, as he had done on the first day, and then asked him to take a seat in the living room.

When Eric came into the living room, he realized that some things had changed. There was no television in front of the sofa; instead, the painting on the right was hung there. One of the chairs was placed in front of the table. The television was on the right, where the painting was before. The armchair to the left and the sofa across, from where the television used to be and now the painting were, in the same place. Eric sat on the sofa and waited.

Paul came into the hall as soon as he heard that Eric had arrived. Eric tried to stay seated, but Paul wouldn't let him. He squeezed Eric's hand and sat down in the chair opposite Eric.

"It's a pity I won't be able to see you again, sir," Paul said.

"You never know," Eric replied. "Maybe your relationship with the states will come out and we need to do a series of interviews again. Don't worry, I won't write the last thing I said," Eric said. He was true to his word and didn't really write that. But there was something Eric forgot.

Paul smiled, paid his respects to Eric, and, "Shall we begin? What do you say?" he asked.

Eric didn't say anything, but gestured with his hand to begin. His curiosity was immediately evident.