The Boy Who Threw Nothing Away by Vladyslava Shulezhko

Martin is twenty-five.

He makes money selling second-hand clothes. His home looks like a dusty storage room full of stories: a sweater forgotten by someone in Berlin, shoes with another person’s name on the sole, a note in a coat pocket ending with: “Sorry, I couldn’t do it.”

He doesn’t throw anything away. Not even people. Not even himself.

****

Mary is standing in the hallway - his girlfriend. Her eyes are red. She’s crying again, still not understanding why Martin has become so cold. Why her hands don’t warm him any more.

- I don’t recognize you, Martin, — she whispers.

- Did you ever know me?

He doesn’t look at her. He learned this long ago - never look back when someone leaves you.

****

Flashback 1: A note from mum

He is six. The room smells like alcohol and bread. His father is sleeping, face in the pillow. There’s an empty bottle on the floor. He doesn’t move.

Martin crawls under the bed and takes out a postcard. It’s from his mum: “My little boy, I’ll be home soon. Stay close to Derek. He’s your protector.”

But Derek - his older brother - already lives in a different world. He’s sixteen, and he learned to run away long ago.

Martin remembers something else: there is no protector. No hugs. Only things. Notes. Bottles. Empty eyes.

****

He really tried to be a good guy. For Mary. For himself. For Viola - the girl he fell in love with.

But he never learned how to hold something that hurts. So he held them both.

****

Flashback 2: The jacket with the sewn pocket

Military school. He’s twelve. Small, a bit fat. Too slow for marching, too soft for orders. The boys laugh at him, throw food, hide his shoes.

One day they rip his jacket. In the pocket -  a small paper with a drawing of his mom. He kept it for years.

They tore it to pieces. After that, Martin learned how to sew pockets shut. And never showed anything to anyone again.

****When Viola asked:

 - What do you feel?

He said:

 - I don’t know.

But he knew. He just sewed that feeling shut when he was twelve.

****

Flashback 3: Derek’s success

He’s twenty. Derek comes to town — in an expensive coat, with a wife and two children. His brother owns a business, gives lectures, donates to charities. Everyone calls him “successful.”

Brother, - Derek says, -  everything is in your hands.

But Martin looks at his own hands -  scratched, dirty from packing tape -  and understands: there’s nothing there.

After that, he stops answering Derek’s calls.

****

Today Viola is gone. For real. He hurt her - he’s not sure if it was on purpose.

Mary is sleeping in the next room -  after another fight. She doesn’t know he cheated. She just lives next to him now, like a habit.

****

Martin sits on the floor. Around him - things. Most still have price tags. Easy to sell. But there’s one thing he’ll never sell. An old postcard from childhood. It’s yellow now, but he can still read:

“My little boy, I’ll be home soon.”

And Martin - like a child - is still waiting. Even though no one is coming. The door hasn’t made a sound in years.

And he isn’t good. And he isn’t bad. He’s just someone who never grew up.