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He was the only person

working at the artwork factory

that never talked, never smiled,

never so much as acknowledged anyone

existed, even himself

He sat

behind his saw and

worked.  All day, until

his shift ended, and he would leave

Always whipping out a dirty cell phone

as he left

 

His remaining teeth were yellow

and his breath smelled of cigarette

smoke

It was as if his forehead read "NUMB"

 

No one ever talked about it

even when I asked

I guess I didn't hear that rule until

it was too late

 

He just seemed so normal

it was offputting,

I was always cautious around him

never asking anything

but what the job required

 

Three days into the job

I told myself

I'm sure glad I'm not him

 

He walked through the doors

and smiled at me

I stopped

and smiled back

he went to his corner of the warehouse

and hummed as he sawed.

 

At lunch he left, then

came back with two women

the first, obviously his

ex wife because

of the steely looks she gave him

the second was

slightly cross eyed and had

a helmet strapped over her eyebrows.

"Who's this?" she shouted at me.

The man smiled.

"Michael, this is my daughter."

he couldn't take his eyes off her

or his smile off his face.

And I thought to myself

I would do anything to

trade lives with him

right now.