Rick was following this foreign body across his own home for quite some time now. He did not like new people entering his den, rather he scorned all who did. The loneliness that the fate had stewed into his existence had made him finicky. For him, the life was far better when he was left alone.
And Rick was always alone. He was alone when he first opened his eyes in an orphanage. He was alone when he first learned to walk, when he uttered his first word. He was alone with his foster parents — people who used him as nothing more than a childminder to their younger son. He loved to walk, he loved to talk. But with no one ever by his side, life turned him into a lonely bloke.
So he ran away from the foster home, ran away from the people. He still does not recall how long was he hitchhiking – on the road, on the sea. He just stopped moving a fine day and fell into a surrounding he cared least about. He learnt he needed money to exist, he learnt ways to earn money, he earned money to exist. And he did exist. However, by now, his existence was under the fastidious care of his loneliness.
A silent persistent rumble brought Rick back to the reality. His heart sank to see how much mess the repairman was leaving behind in his house.
Unable to bear the ruin, Rick shouted, “Do you really have to screw around my whole house, strewing all your mess all across the floor?”
“Of course. Your neighbour has paid me to do,” teased the repairman. Realising how futile it was to kid around this sobersides, he corrected himself, ”Your neighbour has complained he hears a lot of noise in this wall, he is afraid there is a rat or some living creature in here.”
How can there be?, wondered Rick within. ”You have to go, now,” snarled Rick.
“Why? If there is a rat, it will help you too.” The repairman resumed his work — Rick perceived it as nothing less than carnage.
He has to go. Now.