It’s been a long time since I’ve seen a grown man cry. Excluding myself of course, I cry like a child regularly. Much longer even, since one cried for a relatable reason, unlike the end of carnival or their soccer team losing. I am guessing it was my father at the time, and considering the heart wrenching shit he’s been through in his life, I’m sure he had a valid reason.
Just like this man. He came to tell us something, and knowing he was under stress, we asked him how he was doing. We had no idea how much though, and we startled as we watched our question hit home and break him like a twig. He bowed his head and try as he might, lost control over his emotions.
The others had known him for decades. They rushed over and hugged him, making a ball of arms and care with him in the middle, the yolk in the egg. Me, I turned and walked away.
There are many reasons why I did that, I feel like. I haven’t figured them out fully but I think I’m on to them.
“Change of plans,” the text message read. “Capitole in the morning, and at 4pm you go to Ghelamco Arena until 11.”
“K,” I texted back, and proceeded to oversleep like a bitch. They were not impressed.
The Ghelamco job was actually dual: There was a science fair in the office spaces of Ghent’s brand spanking new football stadium, while simultaneously a corporate reception was being held in the other end.. That thing’s got to rake in money, you see, and since it is the new “pride of Ghent” (excluding me, apparently), local companies are all too eager to have their little circle jerk inside its cheaply built bowels. Have fun with that mental image.