How much do you think you can know

someone?
I hope you enjoy the surprise of the
discovery in my first short history.
Have a pleasant reading,
Felipe Silva.

Thomas
The morning at the office had started as usual. 8 o’clock I was just arriving at my
desk. Thomas had arrived already, as usual. From my desk, I could scent the hot cup of
coffee he had with him. From the back, near the cafeteria, the traders murmuring about
the past few days could be heard. The local language wasn’t easy for me yet, but the bear
had it victims inside the company. 7:10 Thomas wasted no time; the office could already
hear the clickety clack coming from his desk. His fingers didn't go ease with the keyboard
keys. For me, I just felt didn’t have the energy anymore, as 80’s car in which you have to
give a few tries before driving, I started smoothly. About my desk I couldn’t have it better,
I could oversee the hole office and have a floor to roof window with view for the streets.
The view served me as a refuge from all the madness going on. The bell from the phones
bring me back into reality. Fortunately, I got the window, I imagine, if a guy like Thomas
had it, he would not even know how to appreciate it.
Thomas is a classy, metropolitan kind of guy. Usually very well dressed in clothes
that, I’m pretty sure, are cutting his budget in half. In all those years, few were the moments
in which I saw him out of a tailored suit. Sometimes I get the impression that he thinks of
himself as a handsome kind of guy. But he is not. Although he has an impressive charisma
that makes his life easier among others, I must give him that. He’s tall, but not as much
as he thinks of himself. But enough to stand out in a crowd. I wouldn’t say he is athletic,
but perhaps society has forged him as so. As is demanded from a guy in his pay grade,
he owns a local fitness member card and can be usually seen spending the afternoon in
the local pubs, struggling to manage a busy career with the excess in his lifestyle.
As a man born and raised in a big city, Thomas often seems to be in hurry, trying
to conciliate 20h of work in 12h. Well, I don’t know if you have guessed already, but yeah,
Thomas and I hold the most boring jobs there are…yes, we work in a bank, but not in one
of those big multinational family cracker banks. We work in a small boutique. Is not that
much interesting, we normally do very much of the same, looking at spreadsheets, buying
and selling. Don’t ask me how Hollywood made bestsellers of that.
We don’t work in the desired metropoles anymore. For different reasons, Thomas
and I decided to try our chances in smaller village abroad. I took my chance as my first
son was born 3 years ago, and I realized I wouldn’t be able to put up with all those big
cities daily struggles and still be able to enjoy my fatherhood. Thomas on the other hand,
came to this office a few years ago. As two foreigners living in a strange city, the language
torn the distance between us apart. He seized an opportunity in the so common dance of
the chairs of the bank and came here to assume as head of private account. As a youth
ambitious investor, he still conserved that flame in the eyes for results. Perhaps if he
wasn’t so greedy…so eager to have it all…we wouldn’t find ourselves in such a position
today.
Lunch time, footsteps and chairs sliding were heard. Me and Thomas are usually
the last to go out to lunch. That way we can avoid the restaurants that are too crowded.
Almost one o’clock, Thomas came to my table, checking whether I was ready to lunch. I
had been ready for the last half an hour.
The neighborhood near the office is nice in old fashion way. We don’t see huge
glass’s building as in London or New York, instead, we have some that perhaps in another
era seemed to have their splendor. We can see big and heavy gates in the front in which
each one had it own doorman. Of course, this is a noble area of the city, and you cannot
expect this pattern to be followed throughout the hole city. Near the office, there is one
square surrounded by buildings and small stores, boutiques, cafes and restaurants with
their tables spread on the sidewalk. In the center of the square, you could have yours
shoes polished inside a kiosk made of wood by a sympathetic old man who would tell all
sort of stories.
We went for something unusual this time. The atmosphere of the place was nice,
dark and cozy. The smell of grilled steaks had the whole ambient covered, letting me even
more starving. Mostly frequented by the senior employees, the place holds an average of
50 years old clientele. The restaurant was still, we could only hear Thomas talking
energetically. Along the lunch, Thomas and I discussed about the market, our impressions
on the local people, though we have been here for at least two years already. When then,
from all the sudden, half way through our meal, we were approached by a man:
- Mr Schuttel? Thomas Schuttel, I come to deliver you this. Follow precisely.
- I’m sorry, what is this? replied Thomas, holding already the letter and the
package though.
- This time…this time you will bear the consequences.
By the way he dressed, the man seemed chauffer, however for his size someone
might guess he could do partially as bodyguard too. Well it didn’t matter the man was gone
as fast as he appeared.
- Have you gained an admire in this city? - I provoked my colleague.
Thomas was mute. All the energy he had was drained from him. Although he didn't
say a word, his eyes, his eyes always tell it all, something in that package disturbed him.
I had never saw him so distant like that before. Minutes passed, my colleague babbling
some words when suddenly he stood up, throwed some money in the table and stormed
out.
I couldn’t spot what was in the box however curious I was.
Back at the office, Thomas was uneasy. Throughout the journey the package was
there, on the table, starring at him. The box seemed to have him as a spider has its prey.
He could no longer work; the office heard no clacks anymore.
19 o’clock, all the computers were shut down, the chairs leaned on the tables. Only
Thomas remained there, sited, quiet. Didn’t even complained when I turned the lights out.
Sometimes, when we have a tough day, going home is not our first instinct. Even
more when there are children’s awaiting.
Then I decided to take a break at the local bar near the office. It is a nice place,
with a 50’s atmosphere. Red seats near a big table, a balcony behind from which we could
spot the kitchen, a row of sofas already worn out by the time it self. The music was nice,
aligned in a fashion with my spirit that day. Unfortunately, I left my wallet at the office. To
leave me even more exhausted I headed back to take it.
When I arrived, Thomas had his desk empty. Just a note was left behind. I headed
to my desk to get my wallet when I remarked, he was kneeled on the floor near the
cafeteria mumbling something inaudible. When I greeted from distance, he entered in
shock. I went closer, from where I could see the body of the man we have seen early
today, lied on the ground, shoot. A few feet’s away a gun. I suddenly couldn’t feel my legs.
 I jumped closer, was about to call the emergency, when Thomas had the gun
aimed at me. He ordered me to pose my phone down. I couldn’t understand none of that.
I tried to reason with him, but he had fierce in his eyes.
I cried, bagged for my live…for nothing. Two shoots.
I think Thomas and I were not that close after all, 2 shoots...he did want to make
sure I would not make.
As I came to learn from the police while at the hospital, Thomas unfortunately
couldn’t make, and died there in the floor. The man who shoot me, accordingly to the
police, is until now unidentified.
All that seemed non-sense to me. I yelled, you have all wrong, Thomas shoot me.
And shoot the other guy too. I couldn’t understand what they were investigating, I knew
very well the man who shoot me, and he couldn’t be that hard to track. “Gosh, go to his…”
But the commissioner interrupted me in the middle of my euphoria to dot the i’s
and cross the t’s. The man, dead was positively identified as Thomas, he was convicted
five years ago for fraud and deceive and had just recently received his parole. He was a
reasonably succeeded man who before being arrested had a whole scheme prepared
here to evade his country.
In the other hand, the man who shoot you two, he was very meticulous in his last
minutes at office, leaving us few tracks. Our hypothesis for the moment is that he enjoyed
the schema prepared by the real Thomas, but when confronted by the real one, the things
got out of his control.
- “Your colleagues said you were the closest he had at the office…if you happen
to have any intel to share with us…that would really help the investigation.”,
said the officer.
I was confused. Literally, had never seen or heard anything as singular. I couldn’t
help the police; my mind was still rounding.
Leaving the office, I have my belongings delivered back to me. When I look inside
my wallet, shockingly, I still possessed the note. I couldn’t explain my wife, I couldn’t barely
understand myself.
I asked a cab and went directly to the address indicated. Was an abandoned
storehouse.
Inside just a table with a suitcase on it, and note:

“I am sorry you were implicated in all this,

You should be left at least half of it.
Ass. Your Thomas”

Even in the bank safes I think have never seen such an amount.