Moses’ Stutter
The hallway is silent now except for the two wheels of the mop bucket and the shuffle of the old man’s feet. Both sound tired. Both know these floors. How many nights has Hank cleaned them? Always careful to get in the corners. Always careful to set up his yellow caution sign warning of wet floors. Always laughing to himself as he does. “Be careful everyone,” he chuckles to himself, knowing that no one is near, not at three A.M.
Hank’s health isn’t what it used to be either. Gout keeps him up at night. Arthritis makes him limp. His glasses are so thick, his eyeballs look twice their size. Shoulders stoop. But he goes about his work. Slopping soapy water on the linoleum. Scrubbing the heel marks left by the well-heeled lawyers. He’ll be finished an hour before quitting time. Always finishes early. Has for twenty years. When he finishes, he will put away his mop bucket and take a seat outside the office of the senior partner and wait. Never leaves early. He could. No one would ever know. . . but he doesn’t. He broke the rules once. . . Never again.
Sometimes if the door is open, he will enter the office. Not for long. Just to look. The suite is larger than his apartment. He will run his finger over the desk. He’ll stroke the soft leather couch. He’ll stand at the window and watch the gray sky turn into gold. And he’ll remember. He once had an office. Back when Hank was Henry. Back when the custodian was an executive. Long ago. . . . before the night shift. . . . before the mop bucket. . . before the maintenance uniform. . . . before the scandal.
Hank doesn’t think about it much anymore, no reason to. Got in trouble, got fired, and got out. That’s it. Not many people know about it, better that way. It’s his secret. . . Hank’s story, by the way, is true. I’ve changed a detail or two and put him in a different century. But the story is factual.
It was a mistake, in Hank’s case, but it was one he could never forget. A grave mistake. Hank killed someone. He came upon a thug beating up an innocent man and Hank lost control. He killed the mugger. When word got out, Hank got out. He would rather hide than go to jail. So he ran. The executive became a fugitive. It’s a true story and generally a common one, although the details are not as extreme as Hank’s. He was trained in the finest institutions of the world, yet working the night shift in a minimum wage job so he wouldn’t have to see the day.
But all of that changed the day when he heard the voice from the mop bucket. At first he thought the voice was a joke. Some
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