Story 58. Written by Jim Waitlord

The morning sunlight shone slowly into Stephens small apartment, its golden rays cutting through the remaining shadows. On the walls hung faded photographs of family portraits, a photograph of a long-forgotten football team. In one of them a young Stephen radiated with energy, his arm on the shoulders of his teammates. That was a lifetime ago. Now, at sixty, his life had passed at a different rhythm. The deafness drew an invisible curtain between itself and the world. Every day there was a battle - a fight to navigate misunderstandings, isolation, and relentless silence. But Stephen was a warrior. He built his resistance brick by brick.

Today his plan was simple: a trip to the mall for toiletries and shaving cream. He approached the excursion as a mission, taking careful notes to avoid missing out on anything. His world may have been silent, but his determination told him much.

Gabriel straightened his security uniform, tugged at the stiff collar as he prepared for his morning shift at the mall. The 28-year-old father two were not strangers to stress. His children had left a chalk and cereal on the kitchen floor, and his wifes bitter eyes remained in his head. "We need to talk about the bills," he said, and his words echoed as he pulled at his belt.

The mall's management has been taking a tough stance against performance lately. Gabriel was painfully aware of the cameras being trained at every corner, and was ready to notice the possible loss of alertness. He wanted to be perfect for his job, for his family. But perfection is a heavy burden, especially in four hours of sleep.

The mall hummed with life. Stephen scanned the shelves, scanned the pharmacies. He picked up a box of shaving foam and held it tightly in his hand to read the small text. His hands were shaking slightly, and his vision was not as sharp as it had been. He smiled faintly as he remembered how his late wife had teased him about spending too much time with the simplest choices.

In the security office, Gabriel watched the monitors. The screens flickered between scenes of ordinary life: a woman juggling with three small children, a teenager trying to put on oversized sunglasses, and a couple arguing over a receipt. For a moment his thoughts drifted to his own children.

Stephen paid for his belongings and made his way to the exit without haste. As he passed through the anti-theft gate, his phone trembled in his pocket. He rummaged around to get it back. A low, shrill sound echoed through the alarm of the anti-theft system. Ignoring the chaos, Stephen straightened his bag and walked on.

Gabriel snapped to attention. His eyes were fixed on the figure on the screen-a man who had accidentally walked out after the alarm had sounded. "He thinks he's smart," muttered Gabriel.

He grabbed his radio. "There's a possible theft at the west exit. I'm going in."

Gabriel moved quickly and shouted, "Stop! Sir, stop!" But Stephen went on quietly, uninterrupted. Gabriel felt the disappointment grow. How could this man be so brazen?

"Enough," grumbled Gabriel as he caught up with him. Without thinking, he reached out and tripped the older man.

Time seemed to slow as Stephen fell. His head hit the marble floor with a sickening crack. The voice echoed in Gabriels ears, but Stephen heard nothing. Her bag spilled, and the contents were scattered like confetti at a tragic party. Blood began to puddle under his head.

"Oh, my God. What have I done?" His face was pale, Gabriel whispered.

Chaos erupted. A young woman who was nearby threw away her basket and ran to Stephen's side. "He won't move! Somebody call an ambulance!' she screamed, rummaging her phone.

"Why didn't you stop?" Gabriel stuttered, his voice crackling.

"Deaf," she snapped. "Have you seen him? He's wearing a hearing aid!"

Gabriels stomach turned. His vision blurred as guilt permeated him.

Stephen woke up a few days later at the hospital. The world around him was confused, his thoughts sluggish. His daughter Emily sat beside him, her eyes red with tears. He explained what had happened, his voice trembling with anger. "Justice will be served, Dad. They can't get away with this."

The police investigation quickly cleared Stephen of any wrongdoing. This was a tragic mistake caused by the ring tone of your phone. However, his family was not satisfied. They sued the mall for negligence and excessive violence.

The courtroom was a battlefield of words. Stephen's attorney painted a vivid portrait of a hard-working man who was assaulted by a negligent security guard and a mismanaged mall. Gabriel sat on the witness stand and spoke in a trembling voice of the incident. "I didn't mean to hurt him. I thought I was doing my job," he said, lowering his eyes.

The mall management was burned down. Evidence has shown that their budgets for security training have been cut to maximize profits. The media clung to the story and called it "The shopping mall that cares more about money than people."

The verdict was clear. The court ruled in favor of Stephen, awarding him significant damages. Soon after, the mall went bankrupt, as it was unable to recover from the disaster. Because of its closure, hundreds of employees struggled to get the job done.

Gabriel had meanwhile quit his job. Tormented with guilt, he sought a cure, and later worked as a volunteer in a rehabilitation center for disabled people.

Months later, Stephen visited the now-abandoned mall. His rooms, once crowded, were eerily quiet. Memories of the incident weighed heavily on his shoulders as he walked through the empty space.

At the entrance he saw a familiar figure. Gabriel was unloading supplies for the rehabilitation center outreach program. Their eyes met.

Stephen hesitated, then went over to him. Gabriel turned, his face a mixture of surprise and shame.

"I'm sorry," Gabriel said quietly.

Stephen studied it for a long time, then nodded. "I know."

For a moment the air between them grew lighter. The pain was not yet gone, but something unspoken passed between them - a sign of understanding, perhaps even the seeds of forgiveness.

The Roar of Silence