A Few Good Things: Part 2

Justin Wakefield worked in the cubical next to mine. On occasion Justin would randomly laugh during the day, which lead to my intrusive habit of peaking over the 5-foot cubical wall to sneak a peak at what was so funny. After a while, the peaking became an obvious waste of time. It really just became of awkward shared moment because Justin wasn't laughing at anything in particular. But I didn't stop.

Justin was in his early twenties with fair skin and carrotish-red hair. He had a plain face and a common nose that dropped a little too close to his mouth. He only wore solid color clothes. It was like a pattern was too chaotic for the structured mind of Mr. Wakefield. It was impossible to imagine Justin in a plaid shirt. Unthinkable for him to have light gray stripes on his pants. These frills just didn't fit.

So solids defined his life. Solid white shirt. Solid brown tie. Solid khaki pants. When I was bored, I would image Justin sitting into his house, his tan shirt blending in with his make-believe tan couch. I imagined him reading elaborate mystery novels that have too many plot twists, and I could see him flipping back to page 32 to make sure that the reveal on page 192 made sense with some foreshadowed element earlier in the novel.

These were just bored musings. The truth is that I knew nothing of Justin Wakefield. But something made them seem true.

Justin tried to blend in to his surroundings. He said just enough to not come across as antisocial but not enough to be remembered. If he didn't show up to work one day, I wondered if anyone would even notice. If I didn't sit in the cubicle next to him, I wouldn't notice his absence if he missed a Tuesday.