He was The Man.
He was the fun dude, every body’s ‘bro.
The guy who could charm a client into increasing the project budget and the boss into increasing the entertainment budget, the guy who could diffuse a tense atmosphere with his witty jokes and dry one-liners, the first guy to shout ‘party’ every Friday, well almost any day. Everybody was the target of his remarks, yet being the subject of his chiding made you feel like one of the gang. At the last annual office party he got all of us to dress like The Avengers and gift the boss an eyepatch! Took the boss all of three minutes to break down laughing.
This right here, the bespectacled mug, was a perfect example of his mirth. Mr. Life-of-the-party.
Yet we who revelled in his light, were totally oblivious of the darkness that plagued him. We met the man; we never knew the person.
Yesterday he turned the lights out.
As I clear out his desk I realise that the show may go on, but a star is lost.
In response to the 134th Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers challenge.
Photo prompt credited to Shivamt25