No Soul

Goddammit, it happened again. While I was at work. I even halfway knew it was going to happen, too.

Arnold broke into the apartment for the fifth time since New Year’s. This is just getting annoying now. At first, I didn’t really have a problem with it. I was even amused by it the first couple of times.

You see, Arnold never steals anything. He isn’t looking for money or jewelry when he breaks into my apartment. He’s breaking in out of an entirely unselfish reason. 

Arnold is a middle aged man; a Florida native. About a decade ago, the Lonely Hearts paid him to participate in an experiment. He hasn’t been the same since.

Ever since, he’s wandered about aimlessly. I feel sorry for the poor guy. He can’t keep a steady job due to the hallucinations he has on a regular basis. 

Poor Arnold was raiding the cupboards in my kitchen when I stumbled in. I was worried he had gotten into the paperwork, so I ran in. If he had, there would have been papers strewn out all over the floor, but there wasn’t any sign of that.

“What are you doing, Arnold? Look at yourself, you’re doing it again!”

He just grunted in response. He knew that. He couldn’t help it. 

A pot fell to the ground and he kicked it aside.

“Where is it, James?”

I sighed. “We’ve been through this before, old man. I don’t have it.”

Arnold grunts again, and he searches through my cupboards faster. 

“Goddammit! Arnold, stop!”

“I’ll stop as soon as you give me it.”

“I don’t have the fucking thing! How could ANYONE have that fucking thing? 

He ignored me and moved on to my table. He started looking through the fruit bowl sitting on it.

“…Arnold, if I even had it, I’d doubt I’d set it next to the apples and oranges.”

“Just shut it, alright!? What do you know!!?”

He knocked the fruit bowl over to the floor, spilling the apples and oranges all over the kitchen. I just shake my head and sigh. Another mess I’ll have to deal with.

“Sit down, Arnold. Come on. Sit.”

The poor man looked defeated. The scowl on his face disappears, and he dropped himself into a chair. I went to the fridge and prepared to fix us something to drink. I noticed he pushed a few things around inside of the fridge as well but I keep my mouth shut.

“Mountain Dew sound good?”

He grunted yet again. I shrugged and poured two glasses of it.

I put the glasses down on each side of the table. I then sit down in the other chair, and took a sip of it. 

He didn’t reach for his drink. He kept his head down low.

I clear my throat, and decide to begin.

“Arnold, I’m sorry, but I honestly don’t have your… I don’t have it.”

“….then who has it, James?”

“It’s gone. Either that or it never existed. The thing you claim to have lost cannot exist.”

“It exists! I know it does…everyone has their own…I can feel it. A different one for each person on this planet. Except me....

I don’t have my soul.”

That’s what he believes he’s missing. His soul. Ever since the botched experiment, he’s complained that something inside of him was “missing.” A few years ago, that something he started to call his “soul.”

The poor old man began to cry. It was really weird seeing him cry like that. I don’t like crying. 

I got up and grabbed a jar off of the fridge. On it, was taped a paper that read “Arnold.” I opened it and pulled out four twenties.

“Arnold, take this. Go home. Get some rest. Buy yourself breakfast in the morning. Stop by if you need any help, alright? 

He was withdrawing into his mind. He barely looked at me as he took the money. He was just the broken shell of a man now. I patted him on the back and showed him the way out. 

Collapsed on my bed, dozed off for a while… nightmare woke me up. Now I’m typing this down.

Yeah, not going to sleep tonight. It's fine.

I'm... I'm used to it.