Filing

"Mr. Aiden Sand, please tell us why you want to work for us."
"I like alphabet."
"And which qualifications do you have for the job?"
"I am good with the alphabet."
"Sounds great to me. I don't know about the others..." The interviewer looked at his colleges, who demonstrated no objection. "Alright then, so here is the contract, just sign your name ... here, you can start tomorrow."

Aiden had promised to call Sirra a week ago. He delayed it as long as he could. Eventually in a boredom saturated evening, he picked up the phone an dialed her number.

"Hey Sis."
"Oh finally."
"Happy New Year. How was the party?"
"Good. Did you get a job?"
"Yeah. A couple of days ago."
"Where?"
"In an office."
"What do you do?"
"Filing."
"Filing? Like filing...filing?"
"Yeah, putting strangers' names in a certain order, then pack them into a metal draw."
"Is it what you want?"
"Yes. The contract got me an apartment."
"Coming back soon?"
"No, not really."
"It has been so long. Some people are going to think you are insane."
"Some people think the Earth is flat."
"Oh yes, well... Paul kinda called. He wanted to move back in."
"No. That is a No-No."
"You are silly. He is still your official brother-in-law. So next time you call, there is a chance that..."
"I won't call anymore."

Aiden hung up the phone, felt him self being a prick, and yet compelled to do so. He couldn't bear hearing his name, any talk about him, above all, Sirra's illogical logic enraged him -- after so many years of domestic violence, constant bruises on her body, broken furniture, broken door and broken heart, Paul left without saying goodbye, then all the sudden, after 8 years of silence, he wanted to move back in because he had fucked up his life, lost his job and roof. Aiden loves his sister, it pains him to think of Sirra as a cheap whore, but if she is not, what is she? She has been a financial support for him, a family-member-turned-

acquaintant, an acquaintant who lately brings more frustration than joy.

Randomly threw on a coat, Aiden ran down the slippery street and buzzed the intercom of Nick.
"Hello?" A sleepy voice wailed out of the speaker.
"Is it me."
Aiden heard the door unlocked and went straight into Nick's kitchen, took a cigarette on the counter. "You know what? As I was walking to your apartment, the traffic light was green for pedestrians, some ass almost hit me and instead of apologizing, he went out of the car and shouted at me. Tipplers in the quarter are aggressive when they are awake, asking for small changes when they are half-asleep on the metro benches. My sister is crawling back to her predator because she couldn't stand the healthy life style for the past 8 years, her 'ex' is never in trouble with law for his behavior, and this is what we are supposed to have in a civilisation?"

Nick took a drag from Aiden's smoke :" You came over unannounced at midnight to talk about civilisation?"

"I don't know." Of course you do, it is not about a specific matter, any specific matter; but to everything relevant to what you actually give a damn. Like so-called freedom or democracy or gentilness, peer pressure, social norm...double-edged blades, use with caution. As a matter of fact, it is about the worthless confusion of such flaws, their flaws, according to your law, these endless pieces of small spikes deeply implanted in your lungs, it stings when you breath; you fear to breath, not enough oxygen flows into your blood, you wake up with foul mood --- the slightest alternation of absolute perfection would piss you off. Am I wrong?

"Black tea?" Nick asked as he set the tea kettle on the stove.
"Sure."
"It is a snowy New Year isn't it!?"
"Indeed it is..."