Even in a world founded mainly on the fear of others – James Gatter had throughout his life developed a perculiar nack for discreet, yet utterly consistent isolation from his fellow man. Going outside, going to work, eating lunch and answering his phone, were all things that on a daily basis made him uneasy. But out of all the perhaps thousands of things that James struggled to avoid; rabid dogs and human contact were the two things that always perpetualy had topped his unwritten list. The firstly mentioned phenomena could he, with the very brief help of Dr. Goldstein, trace back to an old 1980s film about a killer dog, which he unwillingly had seen as a young boy. But the latter mentioned fear sometimes seemed to puzzled even him. For despite going trough his life as unnoticed as possible - mr. Gutter was an awfully lonely being. Heck, I’d even go so for as to call him one of the most lonely souls in all of the western world. Sometimes, when he according to his alarmclock should be sound asleep, he instead of resting would lay awake for hours, longing for someone to call out for him. Still - he didn’t really know why – but there was something about all light acquaintances that from the inside out forced him to manifest a constant distance between himself and the rest of the world. It didn’t matter if it was Greg at the office, his estranged sister or the lady downstairs; as soon as any type of focus was placed on his shoulders – his nerves would come crashing down, leaving him simply murmuring and stiffly looking down on the ground, as some sort of off-putting spectre that just materialized against his will.
At one point in time, long ago, James could recall how he sometimes used to direct the responsibility of this condition on the world around him. In his prouder – yet equally as awkward days of youth - he used to think that because everybody wouldn’t let him take part of mankind, he himself unintentionally had lost the will to try, thus making him the way he is. But as James grew older, and as his pride grew ever more scattered – he soon realized that he wasn’t the only one not allowed to take part in any popularity; all around school and all around the world there were misfits and odd-ones-out, yet they somehow managed to both talk and play amongt themselves. So now as an adult with a proper deskjob, James had almost given up every shred of his feeble longing after friendship, or at this point even some formal association. It almost didn’t matter anymore. Trough years of hard training he could go about his workdays without as much as a single conversation; and trough years of hard training this had also become a rather rigid custom. If he came in early then nobody would ride the garage elevator with him - if he quickly went for coffée at 12.15 instead of 12.00, and only if he went to the vending machine, he could avoid people during his entire lunch – and lastly at the end of the day, he only had to spend an extra twenty minutes by his desk, in order to also avoid people on his way out. For the last nine years this strategy had worked almost flawlessly. On top of that - after learing of his utterly shy manners – only but a few at the office still tried to offer him any words, as they unfrequently bumped into him by the bathrooms or the copy machine.
Greg was one of these people.
Greg was the accountant in the cubicle next to James - and perhaps it was out of boredom, or simply out of bad concience – but every other Monday morning as James arrived at his desk, Greg’s head would appear rising above the white cubicle border - as if driven by human clockwork. Then as James began clicking on his computer or sharpening his pens; Greg would without a care inniate some sort of one way monologue. It was more like an announcement than an actual conversation. Still Greg would go on about his kids or his baseball teams and while swirling around in his fears James would try to appear calm. Every monday-conversation would though end the same way every single time, with a question. And every Monday, James would concider calling in sick for the day.
Yet - it was never anything that required any lengthy anwers – often a simple yes or no was enough to make him disperse. Often these questions revolved around some sort of intrest or value in which for the two to bound around; but despite being secretly grateful all week – James could never amount to catch his co-worker by suprise.
This particular Monday Greg spoke about river fishing in Idaho.
”Yeah, so you actually stand knee-deep in the water wearing these funny high rubber pants – and let me tell you – it runs cold. I don’t care what it means to be a man, when i’m freezing I have no shame in admiting it. Anyway; so i’m standing in this icing river – thinking i’m an idiot for driving all the way out here. And then, all of the sudden – what do you know – I catch a salmon the size of my two year old, and you know, Trish is huge for her age. After that, the word freezing was in my vocabulary no more”, Greg came to his senses and went silent again. To James relief it seemed that the first part of the conversation had ended, and deep down he felt the clutches around his heart ease up a bit as it often did when Greg stopped talking. But after hearing his collegues next words, his body went right back to its seemingly natural state of concern.
”So James. Look, we’ve been working together how long? Seven years?”, as expected James remained silent as he simply looked up at Greg and nodded in an almost mechanical fashion, while at the same time trying to expose his teeth in order to look friendly.
”Well anywho – considered for how long we’ve been sitting here next to eachother. I don’t think i’m in any real state of delusion when I’ve noticed you don’t really talk much. And hell – don’t get me wrong – I don’t mind it. I often wished my wife had as little to say as you. But you know – uhm”, for a moment even Greg seemed to blush out in insecurity, something which filled James with absolute dread. What was going to happen here?
”Well James – what i’m saying is - I wouldn’t consider myself to good a cubicle-neighbor and collegue if I didn’t try to extend a helping hand to you in at least the smallest of ways. Now these conversations we’re having; they’re A-okay with me – but I was talking things over with the missis, and we feel like maybe there should be some other way I could try to assist you or whatever”, At this point James heart was beating so fast that if he had tried to follow his will and actually walk away, he would surely just tumble and fall into some seizure. So instead he sat up as straight as he could with both eyes fixed on the computer moniter.
”Well anyway James – I hope this isn’t to forward or anything – but my wife wouldn’t shut up about this guy after he helped her with her fear of flying and all. Supposedly he’s the best. Well shoot – take a look yourself. If you’re not into it I totally get it, it’s your life and i’m your co-worker; but perhaps it could be good for you to try something new – because after sitting here the past seven years I can slightly tell that nothing else has worked so far.”
This Monday not only did Gregs head and face cross the cubicle border - this time his entire right arm stretched over to James side, gently dropping a business-card onto his desk. James felt to nocous to speak even a single word. So in order to not appear far to rude, James picked up and glanzed at the card for a second, as he to the best of his skillset nodded in some kind of approving response.


”Dr. Ivan D. Ulfrice
196-2B Manhattan
Phd. in behavioural therapy and anxiety management

”Specializing in irrational fears- and thinking.”