Another morning. Another day at work. Smiling, chatting cheerfully, answering queries, guiding employees with only one objective. Making sure that the customer is happy. And the hotel prided itself on getting every customer to come back. And to keep customers happy, he made sure that his employees were happy.
He was warm, kind and had the uncanny ability to release any tension with a combination of the right word and his brilliant smile. And his eyes were smiling even when he wasn’t. That’s what made working with him so easy. And made everyone happy. Employees. Waiters. Bell boys. Cleaners. And customers. And the management loved him too. The hint of the clown and a trace of the schoolyard prefect, mixed with generous doses of grandfather and father.
And when the days were longer then normal, he would allow himself the one drink. Always wine. Always with the radio tuned to the classics. And look around his empty house.
And stare at the pictures on his desk. The twins. And Emma. And he could never forget that night.
And the dam would burst. And he would cry. Soft, soundless tears. Gushing down his anguished cheeks.
The long days always ended like this.
And some of the short ones too.
They said time would heal all, and the tears would stop.
But only death could stop, what death had started.
