I found him in the supermarket, after almost two months of his retirement. I watched him from afar, as he put some of the products he took from the shelf into the shopping cart. I remembered he had left without saying goodbye. He retired. Goodbye and see you soon. He always had a tough temper. Withdrawn and lonely. He had some problems with most of the companions, even with me, that I am an angel from heaven.
I decided to approach him and say hello.
"Casimiro!," I yelled at him from across the hall.
He didn't seem to have heard me. I thought for a moment about whether to keep insisting or go on my way. But I called him again, raising my voice as I did in my lost tenor times.
"Casimiro!"
Then he turned his head. He took off some glasses to see closely and put on others to see from afar. He raised his arm and greeted me. I took advantage of the moment. I approached to him, fighting with the front wheels shopping cart, which were headed towards the shelves, attracted by inscrutable forces.
"How are you doing after retirement?," I asked him with a smile and reached out to greet him.
"Ahh, very good. I Relax. Sorry, what was your name?."
I was baffled for a few seconds. He didn't remember my name! And my name isn't exactly the kind of people who forget easily.
"Tancredo," I replied with a pout of anger.
"Ohhh, sorry, yeah, I remember now. So how's it going at work?."
"Same. You know that in the company everything goes well, money is always needed even to die."
"Yes, yes, that's true," he said to me as if he wanted to escape from that situation.
"I was surprised that you left without saying goodbye. I don't know, we could have done something, a little party."
"Ah... Yes?," he asked incredulously, "It didn't occur to me. Maybe one day I'll come and bring you a box of bonbons. I'm no friend of social events. I'm very anti-social."
"As you wish. I see you're very busy with your shopping. Well, nothing. Let everything go well after your retirement.
"There are always things to do. Maybe I'll see you another day down some of these corridors."
"Perhaps."
I saw him walk away and he got lost in the dairy corridor.
The following Monday, a messenger brought a box of chocolate chocolates, with a card signed by Casimiro. I smiled. I thought he had a good heart at heart. That he had thought it over and sent them out to apologize for not saying goodbye.
We all ate the sweet gift. There were none left.
It wasn't more than thirty minutes passed in which we all, without exception, had to run off to the restrooms, shitting ourselves hopelessly.
Sitting in the toilet, with cramps in my stomach, I cursed myself for greeting him at the supermarket. I thought that, in the end, the goats always runs towards the mountain.
Photo source: Pixabay
