I was in my boss's office. In front of me, my boss rested his hand on his chin with the window behind him illuminating the room with the afternoon light. Without any facial expression, I was lost in thought, confused as to why I had been summoned, my head full of questions. The boss in front of me took a slow breath and, in an awkward tone, said without hesitation, "You're fired, Vincent."
I froze, as if I couldn't believe what he said. I was silent; none of the questions that had been in my head were true. I slammed my fist on the table in pure rage and shattered expectation, yelling loudly at him, "Why!? What have I done? I've been working well in this office and never caused any problems!" I stared at the boss, very close, as if not giving him any room to speak, because I was so angry at his action.
The boss had an ambiguous facial expression that I couldn't decipher. What kind of expression was he making? Did he look like he wanted to laugh? To belittle me? Was it pity, or was he saying, "face the cruel reality"? I didn't know what expression he was showing.
I slowly walked out of his office, filled with disappointment, so much so that I forgot to close his office door. But who cares? He just fired me, too. Why should I feel guilty about such a small thing?
As I stepped out of the company, I heard small voices from the women passing by, as if they were gossiping, "Did you know? There are five children of upper management who are about to be hired here." Hearing that, I felt even more disappointed. As I left the company, I kicked a trash can to vent my anger and disappointment. "Damn it! Life is so unfair! Just because he's the boss's son, he can replace me, who's working to provide for my family."
I went to a bar to forget everything that happened and to escape from reality. Suddenly, a young man wearing the same work uniform sat down to my right. "I'll buy you a drink, sir. Wow, today is such a happy day; I get to work at my dad's company." I paused for a moment, contemplating his words. That's when I realized that it was because of this guy that I got fired. Just as I was about to punch him, the man sitting to my left jumped at him, punching him repeatedly until the young man fell off his chair. "You bastard! Because of you, I got thrown out of work! I still have a child, a wife, and a sick mother, but why are you ruining my life!" I was instantly shocked by this. Without wasting any time, I also joined in, hitting the young man by kicking him repeatedly. Not long after, I left the bar, leaving the other man still hitting the young guy.
I came home drunk. My daughter, Elia, smiled widely at me, asking me to help her with her homework. Ah, she's so sweet. But at that moment, I slapped her hard. My wife just stared at it without any facial expression from across the living room. Without saying a word, I went into the room and slept without feeling the slightest guilt.
The next morning, when my wife woke me up at the bedroom door, I threw the flower vase I had given her towards her. Blood streamed from her head. I, who was initially upset, finally realized what I had done. I slowly approached my wife. I cried, hugging her tightly, but she pulled away from my embrace, full of disappointment. I fell silent, looking at the shattered pieces of the vase. I contemplated for quite some time on the thing that was already broken.