Another Ordinary Day

           The unassuming Ted Walton was nothing extraordinary. He just existed to make other, more extraordinary people’s lives, easier. The keys on his belt loop clanked and jangled against each other as he walked. On his keyring was a house key, a car key next to its fob, a key to his sister’s house, a key to his parent’s house, and a post office box key. As well as a keychain of a photograph he received as a gift. The original sample photo of a strange couple was still inside. He never got a chance to replace the picture. The keychain was old, cracked, and scuffed, and yet he refused to remove it.

           Some days Ted barely thought about the keychain or about the gift card to her favorite café still in his wallet. When they did catch his attention, he’d remind himself to throw them away, but he never did. He didn’t care for the café the gift card was for, and he didn’t even know the people in the keychain, and yet he held onto both. He knew why, but he would keep that as his only secret.

           In the afternoons while on his lunch break he’d look down at where his key hung on his belt loop, eyes latching onto the couple in the keychain. He’d gaze at the attractive couple in the black and white photo. He’d picture the girl as, her, and the man as, someone else. Not Ted himself, but for him.

           When Ted would arrive home with nothing but his fish swimming around in circles in their tank and the leftovers in the refrigerator waiting for him, he’d get angry. But then he’d go and look out at the backyard. He’d see the garden and he’d smile to himself.

           Ted would get the leftover spaghetti from the fridge and eat it cold while he watched his game shows on mute. He’d think, maybe that’s why she didn’t want to be with him anymore. Did the other man eat cold spaghetti, too? Did he watch game shows on mute, and chuckle when the contestants get the wrong answers even though they can’t be heard?

           Though, some people say that Ted is reserved, shy, and boring. Some say that he is depressed, like the women in the breakroom at his job. Ted doesn’t think he’s any of those things. He hears their “quiet” conversations. At first, he imagines what he would like to do, but then he smiles and remembers his garden and how he felt planting it. A feeling he relived just by thinking about it. He’d never be able to get that kind of feeling again. But how he imagined he could when he heard the hushed tones as he walked past the quickly quieted groups of people.

           He’d get home and repeat the night before, only changing things up to periodically cook a new dinner in order to resume eating leftovers. When he was with her, he went out more, but when she left, all ties to anything aside from the grocery store, work, and home were cut off. His sister never called anymore, her last call was to return her house key, but she’s probably changed the locks by now. His parents still called from time to time. Especially around the holidays. He used to empty his answering machine, but he ended up just letting it get full and stay that way, though he’s thought about getting rid of it altogether.

           The highlight of his days is when he tends to his garden, even if it’s just to keep the weeds at bay. He doesn’t dig in the ground anymore. To disturb such angelic earth is beyond his comprehension. The soil reminded him of a blanket.

           Ted’s life was on repeat for the most part. He liked his routine; he needed it. He despised anything that could possibly wish to disturb the order of his life. He despised it so much, that recently he’s decided to snub out any hindrances entirely. Just like the weeds in his garden, he’ll eliminate anything that should dare disrupt his perfect little world. Like the woman the other day. She made a loud rude comment about him while he was walking past on his way to clean the breakroom. This resulted in her group of friends sneering and laughing in his direction. The hushed tones were part of his routine, this was not.

           He didn’t do anything right away. Even he knew that would be too obvious. But after a sufficient amount of time had passed, he followed the woman down into the parking garage to have a confrontation about her rude comment. Needless to say, after their . . . conversation, she wouldn’t be so rude to people in the future. But something changed in Ted after he gazed upon his personal victory. He had removed the weed in his life.

           It wasn’t quite like when she had left him. That was a sad, brutal passion, quick and full of emotion. He had never felt such a high as he had then, and he knew he never would again. But this, this would come close. And that was good enough for him.