Simple Life

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Mr. Avery lived a simple life, just as he always had. In his younger years some time ago, he had been content with the monotony. He had quite enjoyed drinking the same coffee with just a dash of milk each morning, taking the same route- the back way to avoid traffic- to work, and following the same schedule week after week, taking Sundays off to stay home and relax. There hadn't been any x-factors in his life, and he had fully intended to keep it that way.

"Mr. Avery," his coworker, John Bailey, would say to him. "We've worked together for quite a long time now, and I've always wondered why you've never gotten new curtains. The ones you have are so faded, not to mention that a change of pace every once in a while is always good."

"No, no," Mr. Avery would say. He had always gotten comments similar to this one (and not just about his curtains, either), and each time his answer would become more cemented in his brain. As if thoroughly rehearsed, he would articulate his words perfectly, explaining that he truly preferred stability over such adventurous things as new curtains, and he had no need for them anyway since his still functioned properly.

He remembered another time when Nancy Greene had suggested a new marketing plan- that perhaps they should advertise to a new, younger audience. After all, their previously targeted buyers had grown, and soon enough, they would have gone; it was only common sense to apply the product to an audience that would be around to buy it longer.

Mr. Avery, being Mr. Avery, had declined the proposition, opting instead to appeal to their current buyers' loyalty, which did not significantly raise or lower profits at first. Over time, however, the fearsome monster known as Change to Mr. Avery had beaten down upon the company in the worst way, clawing slowly at first and then ripping it apart violently. Just as Nancy had thought, their old buyers had not been around to buy anymore, and though others had slowly started filling the gaps left by them, even more had opted for change and overlooked Mr. Avery's company.

The losses had taken such a severe toll on the company that Mr. Avery hardly had a penny to his name, cutting corners where he could and giving up what few luxuries he had had in the first place. He had never even chosen to travel when he could and instead got to see the same four walls in which he was currently enclosed grow bare and crumble.

And now, as he lay slowly dying in his bed, he glanced around the drab room, his eyes settling on the faded and raggedy curtains hanging tiredly in front of the window, whose glow seemed prevalent to overcome the curtains' irrational resistance to the light. And Mr. Avery thought to himself that perhaps he ought to have changed his curtains.





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