I
crushed a small boy’s chance at happiness today. I was in a position of power
to allow him a bit of joy, and I denied it to him. He was reaching right in
that direction and I just put my finger there instead. Then I pressed the button. I made the silver button glow. Then all
the little boy could do was stare helplessly knowing that if he pressed it
again it would make the light go away, so he couldn’t.
I
remember the time when there was such great joy in pressing the elevator
buttons. Or any buttons, for that matter. There was just a certain joy in
placing your finger(s) on a surface, applying some pressure, then voila! Something magical would take
place. Food would become warm, colours would come on to the grey screen and
static would crackle over the surface, blades of coolness would move causing
that oh-so-calming whirr in the air, water would come trickling out. It’s a
magical feeling. When was the last time I felt that sense of excitement at
pressing a button? Oh yes, just now, right before I realized that my joy was
taken from a small child.
I
feel like a monster now. A terrible, child-joy-stealing monster. And now I also
feel hungry. Perhaps some warm milk would do the trick.
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