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the window washer
Jack Fridder had seen things that were never suppose to be seen. He withheld secrets that could ruin people. And for fourteen years no one knew the kind of things he knew, or wanted to for that matter. Such things were scandalously dirty, and breathtakingly horrifying. His secret was their secrets. As he walked into the building each and every morning he saw these people, and knew something about almost every one of them. He passed by the man on the seventh floor who was cheating on his wife with the man on the fifty ninth floor. He smiled at the women who was diabetic and hid her insulin shots in a locked filing cabinet. He gazed at the CEO who smoked a hookah everyday during his lunch break. And dozens of others with secrets that were thought to be unknown, few people in building 27 weren’t guilty of keeping secrets and telling lies.
The skyscraper sat on Eighth Street in New York City. It was called building 27 because it was the 27th building erected in New York, and had served a multitude of purposes, thus an official name would not stick. There were 82 floors, 150 windows per story, 12266 windows in all. Mr. Fridder had been working in that building since he was 53, and now at age 67 Jack loves his job. Few people in that building new his name, and that was the way he liked it. He worked nine to five, four days a week. The pay was not great but Jack was a single, senior citizen, he didn’t need much.
His wife Helen died six years ago from a heart attack. That was the only sick day Jack had taken. They had been married for 32 years, they were best friends, and they did everything together. Jacks heart broke on that day, and so he decided he would stay home. But the next day it was back to work, there was business to be done. Jack was dedicated to his work, more so than almost everyone else in Building 27. And yesterday was no different.
It was just another ordinary Wednesday, and since it was May the weather finally started to warm up. Jack passed the diabetic woman, then a man in a bold yellow tie, and finally came to a halt on the sixty sixth floor. He watched a man kiss a woman before she walked out of his office, not uncommon. But upon further inspection Mr. Fridder noticed that there were pictures of this woman on his desk- it was his wife. It was only moments later that a women immerged from his coat closet, barely clothed. The man walked over and locked the door. Jack froze, he should have left right then. Had he left, fled the scene, Jack may not have been in the mess he was now in. Yet he found himself unable to move. It was like he was paralyzed, the high school track star, couldn’t feel his legs. And that was when the woman, who was not this man’s wife, turned and saw Jack. He saw her lips say what must have been the man’s name and the man instantaneously whipped around and his eyes settled on Jack. Mr. Fridder gave this man an awkward smile and was out of there.
And as Jack walked home last night he simply laughed off the encounter. He had seen so many scandalous happenings that this one was hardly any different. Except for the fact that Jack caught the man in the act and the man, unlike the others, was aware of this.
Now the two stood face to face. Two with a secret, and one with a gun. Jack was scared for his life, and rightfully so.
“What do you want?” Jack asked, the fear in his eyes depicting the fear in his voice.
“You really don’t know?” the man sarcastically taunting Mr. Fridder, “ You saw what happened yesterday, don’t play stupid. I cannot risk this getting out. I have a family, and a job, and because of you I could lose it all!”
“I have been working in that building for a decade and a half; you think yours is the only secret I
know? I am no rat!”
“I can’t take any risks in letting you go” The man murmured, avoiding eye contact.
The man pointed the gun and the next thing Jack Fridder heard was a gun shot. He was shaking uncontrollably. He dared to look up, but there was no gun pointed at his head, instead there was a dead man in a suit.
Jack headed home, frequently glancing over his shoulder. It was the longest train ride he had ever taken; he got home and went straight to bed. Tomorrow, on the sixty sixth floor, one man would not be showing up to work. It was yet another secret Jack Fridder possessed.
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