Inês Cortez
October 31, 2020
The story of a butler. A butler who worked for two generations for a rich family that owned a coffee mill. The son, used to a fancy lifestyle, hired the butler as the doorman of the mill when he took over the business.
The story of a butler. A butler who worked for two generations for a rich family that owned a coffee mill. The son, used to a fancy lifestyle, hired the butler as the doorman of the mill when he took over the business.
Inês Cortez
October 31, 2020
The story of a butler. A butler who worked for two generations for a rich family that owned a coffee mill. The son, used to a fancy lifestyle, hired the butler as the doorman of the mill when he took over the business.
The doorman was very loyal, including to his very small family — his wife. One day, she got sick. The doctor told them she could be healed but they had to act fast and treatment wouldn’t be cheap.
Desperate for money, the doorman asked his boss for salaries in advance. The young boss promised him that, if he came back that evening, he would happily bring him the money they needed. No wages in advance, no interests, just him helping out a dear member of staff who had been in the family since he was a little boy. He gave the doorman the rest of the day off so he could be with his wife.
When the doorman came that evening, he found the mill as he had never seen it before: closed. He stood there, wondering to himself what had happened, when a man in a suit came out from inside of the mill. This man told him that he was a banker and that the mill opened bankruptcy that afternoon. He assured no one was coming for him. However, the doorman refused to believe him. He knew that if his boss promised him to meet him with the money that he would do it. The banker advised him to meet his boss at his home, but the doorman didn’t know where it was. He only knew that the boss had moved to a different house. Rumor has it, the banker gave him a bottle of brandy so he could warm himself up during the freezing night that was expected to come. The next day, the doorman was found dead.
The location of the mill is the same as the location of our studio.
“Hey, are you ok?” one of my teammates asked.
I couldn’t find the energy to tell them what I had read, so I just said.
“Yes, I’m good.”
I folded the newspaper and looked at the photo of the mill again. The doorman was gone.
And I was too overwhelmed to notice that the girl who picked up the phone was paying for our breakfasts at the cashier.
“Here’s your change”
“Thanks”, she said.
“It is nice of you to pay for everyone”
“What can I say? It was a rough night”
“You all right, miss?”
“Yeah, don’t worry, I’m fine.”
The cashier smiles.
“What?”, she asks with a shy smile.
“Nothing, it’s just your voice. You sound exactly like my wife.”
“Oh! Interesting. Goodbye.”
“Have a good day. It was good to hear your voice again.”
She cringed and started walking towards the table again. As she did it, she realized that her voice was not the only familiar sound of that day. She was sure that she had heard his voice too, but because she was too tired, she let it go. And I didn’t notice that the cashier looks exactly like the doorman.
But he wouldn’t show up again. Not for now.
The end
