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Nice Guys Finish Last — A Short Story
For the most parts, life passes at it’s own pace. Sometimes though, something darker surfaces. This story is from a few hours ago and made me feel so.. vulnerable.
I am on holiday, in a rather idyllic mountain village at the moment of writing this. I am sitting on the balcony of an Airbnb, it is slightly cold here, but I do not feel like going back inside. It is calmer here, and that makes me feel a little better.
Yesterday, I came back from a day trip, to hear very loud and melancholic music near the house. Extremely curious and confused, I asked the caretaker about it. With a sad expression on her face, she said “My cousin sister’s son passed away”. Not knowing what to say, I could only look at her very sadly. I wanted to give her a hug, but knowing the culture here, that would probably have not been very appropriate.
The next morning, that is today, I sat down to have breakfast. She then told me the story of Gerhund (name altered of course).
He was just 20 years old, a few years younger than me. One of nine siblings, he was the oldest and worked the hardest of them all. Their parents had passed away when he was four, and their relatives and neighbors took care of them when they could. When he grew up, he started working in a nearby warehouse.
