A Lot Of Fortune!

 I sat on the sidewalk, chugging my thermos coffee; it was quite early in the morning and the coffee was a medical necessity. I sat there in the cold air thinking how the interview would go; I had been through uncountable job interviews before, yet I was still jobless. This was probably my hundredth interview, and I had a bad feeling about it with butterflies swarming in my stomach and a huge lump in my throat. How much more could I rely on Mr. Walter, the only person I could call family, since both my parents left me when I was a juvenile toddler, and my grandmother too who raised me after they died, died as well when I was a vivacious teenager. Since then, my grandmother's landlord (now my landlord), Mr. Walter has been a very generous man and helped me through tough times. However, he was very old and jobless as well, by that I mean retired; he was an army General back in his days and had inherited a lot of fortune. That fortune, after he dies would go to his son/daughter or somebody else with his blood relation, and I would still be jobless with no one to help me; with that abstract, I was struggling for a job. I sat there thinking numerous thoughts, when my phone buzzed in my pocket, at first I didn't notice because I had switched it off for the interview. Then it vibrated strongly in my pocket sending vibrations all over my body. I took it out of my immensely grimed pocket, it was an unknown number, usually, I don't take unknown numbers but today I felt as if I had to, a weird complexion. When I answered the phone, it was a lady's voice that answered back, and I recognized it right away. She was our neighbor, a middle-aged woman who mingled not so much. Her voice sounded intense and desperate. "Marta?" I sounded "Everything alright?" Without paying heed to my concern she added more concern, "Come here right away, the old man needs you!" I wanted to ask who and which old man, but it was too obvious, Mr. Walter was the only old man I ever knew. I started panicking, the first thought that came to my mind was 'what if Mr. Walter is tired of my burden on him and wants to confront me his feelings' second thought: I had no second thought. I quickly packed my coffee thermos in my all-handy backpack, mounted my bike, and set off towards West (possibly, because the sun always set overlooking my bedroom window). As I rode zooming with speed, I panicked, even more, I didn't want to get late for my interview, yet I couldn't deny Mr. Walter who had helped me so much without hesitation and given me his utmost nonpareil towards everything. After minutes of riding, which felt like hours that would never end, I reached my destination. My home stood here, a common house with no specialty, but for me, it was something I could turn to whenever I was feeling down. The living room would offer me kindness by allowing me to sit on the couch, relax and binge-watch soap operas (a trait inherited by me of my grandmother); the kitchen would be oh-so generous by offering me frozen treats since they were the cheapest foods in the supermarket; the bath would splendidly give me comfort with its warm bubble baths. But, the most kind, the most generous, and the most comforting was Mr. Walter, so I ran straight away towards his apartment. The main door was shut, and outside of it stood an umbrella stand and a new pair of shoes, I guessed them to be Marta's. It felt surprisingly awkward to knock since Mr. Walter's apartment was my everyday stop. The door opened slowly, and Marta's face popped out. She searched me creepily and without saying anything let me in. She led me towards Mr. Walter's bedroom, even though I already knew where he slept and other nook and crannies of his apartment. Mr. Walter was resting in his bed, he looked frail and even more wrinkly than before. "Is he sick?" I whispered to Marta, "He's dying." Was her strange reply. I wouldn't believe it unless Mr. Walter told me himself, and as if he'd read my mind he said roughly, "I'm dying."

He said it like it was something he did every day. "We should call the doctor right away...why didn't you call the doctor!?" I yelled at Marta, which was wrong of me, clearly, I was dumping my frustration on her. "No need to call a doctor!" Mr. Walter butted in, "I will die anyway...but before that, I want to talk to you, it's important!" He patted the side of his bed, ushering me to come to sit. I did. Then Marta left on Mr. Walter's command and it was just the two of us. My heart was pounding and it could be heard in the silent room, I was afraid, I was shocked and my head hurt. "I'm happy that I get to die with you by my side." I looked into Mr. Walter's deep brown eyes, and he looked into mine. I felt more awkward and shifted myself side to side. "Here, take this." He finally voiced, after minutes of observing my awkwardness, and handed me an A4-sized paper. It was an agreement. 'Gosh' I thought in my mind, I've never been the holder of an agreement before. "Read it and sign it." He said, looking at the fan that wasn't on. I read it, but I didn't sign it, why would I sign something that wasn't meant for me. "I can't," I told Mr. Walter, who had turned as pale as an arbitrary ghost. "It's my will that you sign this agreement, it's my will that you get all my fortune and everything I ever owned!" I could have done it if it wasn't for a dying man in front of me. "No!" I clamored, "This belongs to your son or your daughter, not me. Allow me to take this agreement to them." He smiled as I said this, "I have no son or daughter, the only son I ever knew of was you, who respected me and treated me like a father because you too had no family and neither had I!" "Lost them during the War." He muttered. I was shaking, all these years, he had never told me this, why now? I was upset and on the verge of crying. "Sign it before I die!" He puffed, and this time I did. When I looked up after signing my ugly sign, Mr. Walter was no more, he too was gone, gone leaving memories behind and a lot of fortune...