GREEN EYES: AN ORIGINAL SHORT STORY... WRITTEN IN TEN MINUTES!

"OMIGOD! Those are the most beautiful green eyes I have ever seen! They look stunning. Did anyone else have green eyes in your family?"

Esther was a medical student, going out of her way to come see me that evening. She was intrigue by me. Earlier in the day, she'd come visiting a houseman -- junior doctor Mark who was her senior in college.

"No, no one in my family had green eyes. Everyone had brown eyes," I replied. I've had the questions directed at me so many times, but what my parents had taught me, always stayed with me: to be respectful of people. And that included answering questions (even those asked repeatedly, by different people, all the time) I'd realized that dealings with people deserve a level and decency and thoughtfulness lacking in this modern world.

"Hey Esther! Good to see you again! I see you are intrigued by my favorite patient!" Mark joined, and pulled up a chair next to Esther's.

"Hey you!" Esther said as she looked up and smiled. "I couldn't resist asking him about his green eyes! I hope you don't mind."

"No problems on my side. You have to ask the patient himself!" Mark replied.

"You're gonna be bored doc. I am going to repeat the story again," I told Mark.

"You're anything but boring," Mark diplomatically said.

"The eyes were initially brown, but it is a combination of unhappiness, chemical pollutants and plain old envy that have changed my eyes and, even my heart," I began.

Unlike most youngsters, I entered the world with a mighty sense of optimism about the goodness in people. But as I grew up, I began to see that people were not nice.

Naturally, I gravitated towards people who were like minded. I loved my friends and cared about them as they did love and care for me. But at work, as in the real world, you can't run away from people who are not so nice. You are walking on the street and someone might have had a bad day and that touches you in the way they walk in front of you, cut across you on the sidewalk -- whatever. Other people's vibes will come bearing down on you.

As an escape, I immersed myself in my work.I became quite good at what I did. It was a nice escape. But it didn't last long. Bad people can come and be part of the place where you work. Bad people, when they are also stupid -- that is a lethal combination! It is worse than good people who are dumb!

The bosses, in cutting costs, bought a building in a bad neighborhood that was a chemical plant and put us there. From industrial use, the building was peopled by office workers almost overnight.

Many of us complained of not feeling well. We were falling sick at the workplace. People were coughing throughout the day in the office. I pointed it out to the bosses. Coughing all day long is not normal! But no one listened. They didn't care.

I was becoming an angry person. And having tired of trying to get management to listen, I gradually felt envious of others who worked in safe places. Others, who made noise and were heard. I am a writer. I worked in the media. And every time I saw other media people, I wondered what'd it be like to work in their organization. But I had this thing called loyalty. Obviously, it was not worth anything.

People in other countries in the media were well taken care of. You see them on TV, and they are well paid, well looked after by their employers. You can see it from the joy they have in what they do... you can see it in their eyes. Why couldn't we be like that? Why are writers here not respected? Why are the writers here not built up to be all that they can be, like in those western countries?

The bitterness just kept growing. And one day, I before I knew it, people remarked about my green eyes. And after years of having worked in that toxic environment -- at 35, I had to go for a heart surgery. Particles in the air had clogged my arteries in my heart. And when they cut it open, the heart, they were shocked to see -- was green in color.

I sued the company, of course. But all those bastards who never did anything, never lifted a finger to investigate my complaints are dead. The toxins had gotten to them to.

Now, I am finding my soul again. I have started writing again. An I am here for my check-up. The doctors here keep me for a few days for tests and observation.

And that is how I've met you both wonderful people -- Mark and Esther! Good people are coming back into my life and I have again begun to feel the goodness that so filled me in my younger days!

"Sorry Mark, I tried to go through the story as fast as I could!" I said apologetically.

"Hey, never say that -- I am with you on this!" he said.

"I am glad you've gone back to writing again! I love your writings! I grew up reading your articles in the papers!" Esther said. "I'm so sorry, but I just have to touch you! My friends and I adore you!" she added, as she held my hand tightly.

"Hey, I saw him first! He's my friend!" Mark said, looking at Esther in a mock-territorial manner. Both laughed and had youthful, toothy smiles on their faces.

That is what life is all about, you know. The chance to be happy is so precious!




Image, cropped from a piece done by artist Roy Lichenstein