Shouting across the basement, the housing office manager nearly strained his voice.
— How long do I have to look for you? Stephen, stop slacking off. You need to clean up the yard at 15th Court. The leaves are piled so high people will soon be swimming in them.
Grabbing a broom and shovel, the janitor trudged to the assigned address, muttering under his breath, cursing his boss. Stephen had been a janitor at this housing office for five years and had never once let his supervisors down. But lately, people noticed an odd sluggishness in him. It seemed like he was doing his job under duress. No one knew exactly what was wrong, and frankly, no one cared enough to find out. Everyone had their own problems spinning their heads.
Half an hour later, Stephen was at 15th Court. Seeing the mountains of leaves scattered across the pavement, he grabbed his broom and started sweeping them into a pile. Just then, a stunning woman passed by, her jewelry sparkling as she talked on her phone. Stephen couldn’t help but stare, and the stranger must have felt his gaze. Turning around, she made a grotesque face and snapped:
— Get to work, you Neanderthal, instead of gawking.
Sighing heavily, Stephen didn’t respond and swept the fallen leaves even more vigorously. That was the harsh reality—when you’re lower in status, you can’t talk back. Not only do they humiliate you, but they also trap you in a position with no way out. At that moment, Stephen felt as low as the ground beneath him, if not lower. Who could have guessed that soon the situation would turn upside down, and it would be unclear who’d end up where?
The manager arrived at the yard, surveyed the area, and said sternly:
— Listen, Stephen, you’ve got exactly two hours to finish this. Don’t dawdle here too long; afterward, you’ll need to sweep around the administration building. I feel for you because you’re a diligent worker, but mark my words, every patience has its limit.
Stephen never forgot that, as his boss reminded him constantly. After cleaning the yard, the manager himself drove him to City Hall. There, Stephen relaxed a bit. The administration staff treated him with respect, and a familiar neighbor worked as a security guard. He lived in the same building and entrance as Stephen.
Quickly figuring out where to start, Stephen finished the job in half an hour. The manager, thinking it would take longer, had left and couldn’t assign him a new task. Waving it off, the guard invited Stephen to his small office:
— Come in, buddy, no need to stand outside. I just boiled the kettle; let’s have a quick bite. Man, your boss is on a rampage. Yesterday, he brought two new guys here, and they made such a mess that he let loose on them like a pack of dogs—you could hear it a mile away. Looks like they can’t manage without you, but that’s good; you’re in his good graces.
It was a nice compliment, but Stephen, taking a mug of tea and sipping it, reacted glumly. Noticing this, the guard quietly asked:
— What’s wrong, Steve? You’re not sick, are you?
Stephen lowered his head and said:
— No, George, it’s just that today someone dragged me through the mud. They stomped on me like I’m nothing.
Pointing at the door as if someone stood there, the guard asked:
— You mean your boss? Don’t take it to heart; he doesn’t mean it. He still values and respects you.
Stephen took another sip and added:
— No, it’s not even about him. He’s actually a good guy, just tough. It was some beautiful woman who called me a Neanderthal, can you believe it?
The guard nearly burst out laughing across the room:
— Steve, she was paying you a compliment! Sorry, but my first wife used to say a man should be just a tad better-looking than a monkey. Consider yourself lucky—you’re a step above!
The comparison made Stephen chuckle too:
— Wow, George, that monkey line is something else. I’ll have to remember it and use it to tease someone someday. But seriously, it stings when people insult you for no reason. I just glanced her way—it’s not a crime!
The guard smiled again and replied:
— Don’t sweat it; she was probably just scared you’d steal her beauty. Stranger things happen, and I’m starting to believe in the supernatural. Take my neighbor, for example…
But he couldn’t finish because the manager returned. Giving him a sidelong glance, the guard muttered:
— I’ll tell you later; you’ll crack up.
Inspecting Stephen’s work, the manager stepped close and slipped a few hundred bucks into his pocket:
— This is a bonus from City Hall; they asked to show some appreciation. I see you didn’t waste any time, huh?
He nodded toward the guard. Stephen hesitated, searching for words, but the manager didn’t wait for excuses and answered himself:
— Fine, I know you work well. Chatting with the guard isn’t a crime. But if a single complaint comes your way, I won’t care about your past merits.
Nodding in agreement, Stephen got into his boss’s car, and within half an hour, he was near his home. Today, the manager let him go early since the work was done on time and without issues. As soon as he stepped into the apartment, his mom’s voice called from the kitchen:
— Sweetie, come to the table quick; I made your favorite pickle soup.
Surprisingly, Stephen still lived with his mom, even at thirty-two. Most men his age had families, but he had no one in sight. It was a bit sad, but Stephen didn’t seem too bothered. Sitting at the table, he looked at his mom and asked:
— Tell me, can you really judge a person just by their appearance?
Leaning back as if dodging a fireball, Elizabeth replied:
— Well, how do I put it? What a person wears always matters. You know, if they don’t take care of themselves, people will treat them accordingly. As they say, you’re judged by your clothes.
But Stephen clearly wasn’t after that answer:
— Sure, but what if you’re working in overalls, not loafing around, and someone says you look just a bit better than a monkey?
A faint smile crossed Elizabeth’s face:
— Sorry, honey, I couldn’t help it. Who called you that?
Realizing his mom’s smile wasn’t intentional, Stephen answered:
— Some woman at 15th Court, where I was sweeping leaves today. She passed by, and when I stared, she called me a Neanderthal.
Elizabeth couldn’t hold back a laugh, covering her mouth with a handkerchief:
— Sweetie, that’s not a monkey; it’s closer to human!
Shrugging, Stephen said ruefully:
— You too, Mom? I didn’t expect that from you. Fine, pass the soup; I’m starving. People come up with names that make you want to laugh or cry.
Only then did it dawn on Elizabeth that her son was thinking about his personal life. The moment had come to say it:
— Steve, it’s time you got married, or you’ll stay single into old age.
Grabbing a spoon, he replied:
— I knew it, Mom, you’re trying to pawn me off on some woman.
Elizabeth faltered, clearly not expecting Stephen to take it that way. To smooth things over, she said:
— No, Steve, you’re my only child, and I won’t let anyone hurt you. As for marriage, it’s just life’s natural course—nothing wrong with it.
After a brief pause, Stephen believed his mom wasn’t trying to get rid of him:
— Sorry, I misunderstood. I thought you were tired of me being here. Yeah, I’m over thirty, but I’m not ready for a family yet. Sure, beautiful women catch my eye—that’s normal—but I haven’t met one I could love. Even that snob who called me a Neanderthal is probably just made for looks.
Elizabeth ran her hand through his hair and said:
— Don’t worry, honey. Someday you’ll have your own family. For now, I’m here, and I hope you’re happy with that.
Stephen nodded:
— Yeah, Mom, you’re right. Thanks for dinner; it was delicious.
Watching him go, Elizabeth stacked the dishes in the sink and wiped the table. Her son went to his room and stayed there all evening. The conversation wasn’t exactly pleasant, but she told him what no one else would. She was right: he needed to marry and stop chasing illusions. Stephen was afraid to admit that the woman had caught his eye. He brushed it off with irony to hide his true feelings. It seemed he was ready to forgive her for the Neanderthal jab just to see that enchanting creature again. His eyes gave him away, and the guard at City Hall noticed Stephen blush when he teased him.
Who would’ve thought a fleeting encounter—not even a real meeting—would stir his heart? Sitting at his computer, Stephen scrolled through endless news to push away the negative emotions. Cooling off, he realized not every word should be taken to heart. He saw the encounter as a sign of fate.
The next morning, Stephen didn’t just walk to work—he sailed in. Meeting his boss outside the office, he greeted him cheerfully:
— Morning, Anthony! Good to see you!
Surprised, the manager sat on a bench:
— Wow, I didn’t think you treated work like a holiday. Honestly, I’d rather stay home and rest. But you know, without me, this place would collapse. Who’d keep you all in line?
Ironic but meaningful—that’s how Stephen took it. Grabbing his broom, he was about to head to his section, but the manager stopped him:
— Hold on, don’t rush. I’ve got a special task for you. In half an hour, Victor’s coming. You’ll go with him to the abandoned textile factory. There’s a sewer issue; he’ll pump it out and redirect it. You’ll clean up afterward, and then I’ll let you go home.
Good news to start the day:
— Got it, Anthony. It’ll be done perfectly.
No one doubted it—Stephen had to maintain his status as the best worker. Exactly half an hour later, Victor arrived, looking like he’d just been dragged out of bed. Glancing at Stephen, he grumbled:
— Always the same. Someone’s pipe bursts, and they send me like a plug. Fine, hop in the truck; we’ll do this quick and head home. By the way, my wife’s visiting her mom today. We could have a drink.
Stephen got the hint but declined:
— Nah, Victor, let’s skip the drinks. I know you’re a friendly guy, but my health’s worth more.
Waving him off, Victor replied:
— Suit yourself. Why do I always get stuck with teetotalers and ulcer sufferers?
The address they were headed to often had clogged sewer manholes. Victor took the shortest route. While driving, he tried entertaining Stephen with outdated jokes, but Stephen didn’t bite. Finally, Victor snapped:
— Why so glum? Wake up on the wrong side of the bed?
Stephen didn’t want to argue, but to get Victor off his back, he said:
— I’m fine; it just stinks in here. Ever think of airing it out? You’re gonna smell like the sewer yourself soon.
Victor laughed it off:
— Fair point. I’ll tell my wife to get an air freshener.
Soon, they reached the textile factory. Looking around, Victor ordered:
— I’ll turn the truck around. Grab the hook and lift the manhole cover. It’s in the cab—don’t tell me you forgot.
The hook was heavy, and the cover felt like half a ton. Stephen struggled, and Victor, as if on purpose, didn’t help. Probably sore that Stephen refused to drink and ignored his jokes. After five minutes, the cover finally gave way, and Stephen pulled it aside.
But then he froze in horror. Peering inside again, he saw a large black bag and a woman’s purse. Panic set in:
— What do I do? What now?
Victor was already backing up the truck. Stephen stood rooted, as if his feet were glued to the ground. Victor noticed and waved from the cab:
— Show me how much is left, or I’ll roll over the manhole!
Unable to shake the shock, Stephen gasped for air, trying to speak. Victor stopped the truck, opened the door, and jumped out. Three meters apart, Stephen suddenly saw the black bag move. He screamed and dropped to his knees. Rushing over, Victor looked into the manhole and nearly turned pale himself:
— Good Lord, what is that?
Stephen calmed down slightly and steadied himself:
— I don’t know, but the bag’s moving.
Looking again, he recognized the purse. He’d seen it before. Trying to recall, Stephen clutched his head and mumbled. Victor had never seen him like this and thought he’d lost it:
— Need a doctor?
Shaking his head, Stephen crawled on the ground, searching for something. His odd behavior made Victor question his sanity, and he asked again:
— You okay?
Finally, Stephen stopped crawling and sat up:
— We need a rope to pull the bag out.
Victor put his hands on his hips and said:
— Forget it. I’ll climb down, and you’ll help. Call the police and get a squad here.
Just then, a moan or groan came from below. Without hesitation, Victor jumped into the manhole and started lifting the bag. Even with Stephen’s help, it took a while. When they opened it, they found a woman inside—the same snob who’d called him a Neanderthal. Stephen’s fists clenched in anger, and he wanted to say something, but a police car rounded the corner, followed by an ambulance.
The woman was lucky; she hadn’t been badly injured in the fall, though she had plenty of other wounds. After examining her, the medics, with Victor and Stephen’s help, loaded her into the ambulance and took her to the hospital. The police inspected the scene, made notes, took photos, and left without asking questions.
A day later, Stephen was called to the station to give a statement. There, he explained he’d seen the woman before:
— Yeah, she passed by while I was sweeping leaves at 15th Court on Ring Road.
He didn’t mention the Neanderthal insult. The officer shared a grim story: the woman’s ex-partner had tried to get rid of her. He beat her and dumped her in the manhole, hoping no one would find her in that desolate spot—an abandoned factory in an industrial zone with only a couple of houses nearby. The criminal likely thought she wouldn’t survive the fall. But by some miracle, she did. They’d caught the guy; he thought his plan had worked and was about to skip town that morning. Thankfully, the woman briefly regained consciousness and described her attacker. Wrapping up, the officer thanked Stephen for his vigilance and added:
— They’re expecting you at the hospital. Don’t say no; go visit her.
Stephen hesitated but told his mom, who convinced him to go. That same day, he visited her ward:
— Sorry, they said you wanted to talk to me.
The woman was bedridden but could speak a little:
— Thank you for saving my life. I remembered where we met, and I’m sorry for insulting you last time.
Stephen started visiting her more often, and after her discharge, a serious relationship blossomed. She owned a small business and needed a reliable assistant. Stephen left the housing office for good, and it seems they’re heading toward marriage. As for her ex, he got the harshest sentence possible.
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