Things had been going well for Harman Horstmann recently, for there was no one he needed to kill, and thus he could be more himself for now. He had decided to spend a little time out at the movies, and he did not fear being seen here alone, or the consternation from others that may bring him; he had never married, yet did not lack female attraction when he found it necessary. He did not mind the eyes of others upon him, and indeed had made a good living through the eyes of others.
The movie he wished to see was a historical documentary on the life of Muhammad and his teachings, though Harman did not view it for its religious content; he had been religious at one point, but no longer, and certainly was never Muslim.
His last direct encounter with religion was at his mother's funeral, a few years ago. He had not liked his mother much, but had felt obligated to at least pretend that she was a good woman, even as he knew this was all false, and even as the disapproval of his actions she had held for much of his life would be true, now. But she was deeply religious and had believed that the least one could do for God was to suffer for Him; she had denied treatment on this basis until her death.
Thus to Harman's mind, if he went to Hell, that would not be so unexpected. It was Heaven that would really cause him to tremble.
But he had always been interested in historical documents and facts, even as the personhood of many religious figures were similarly constructed & debated. He thought himself receptive to the narratives of the great men of history, yet it had always irked him to see them recognized so. It was not that he believed he did not deserve recognition, but that he could not be given the same.
For a year the world had seemed a realm of dream to him, and he thought to what he had left unsaid to the clerk; the mutability of life had left him with an ennui of no remedy. He was not certain why he did what he did, beyond the obvious. In this theater light seemed to come of another existence, for he could spy no slits, and in life he had little markers to hold his vision or by which he could measure his progress, a life in free fall, even as his standing had, by all objective terms, only increased in the past years.
Yet the needed weedings had become mundane, the punctuation around what he enjoyed in life, even as he knew he could have no normal existence by any measurable metric. Power and greatness are appeals to many men, but greater than greatness is its recognition.
After the film, he went out to the lobby for a bit more popcorn and snacks; there was a second film he wished to see tonight. He looked down at the shelves of candy, then to the female clerk ringing up his order.
As he bought his popcorn and a small bit of snacks, he looked down at the shelves, then to the female clerk running the counter. He took one of the cases of Milk Duds, then surreptitiously stuffed it in his coat. He looked straight at the clerk, slowly pulled the case out, then grabbed it again, much more openly. She did not react, so Harman did this twice more.
"I'm sorry, it's my first day here." she said. "I'm still learning how to run this."
"You'll grow used to it." said Harman. "Life has its own method of turning the new into the mundane."
He left without paying for the goods nor the next film he wished to see. Afterwards he was in the theater's bathroom, washing his hands of popcorn grease. A man came after him into the bathroom and accosted him, shoving him back a few feet. "Hey *Romeo*, you gonna give my girlfriend a fucking apology or not?"
Harman smiled. He was glad to have even this, now. His demeanor further angered the man, who shoved him again. Harman could easily kill the man here; he could not be found out. Yet a reserve held him back, even as he hoped for the audience he could never allow, as he left the bathroom and to the crowd in the halls. In the midst of this he found the trash can and discarded the 3 unopened cases of Milk Duds there, and left the theater. He saw two young girls, who were pointing up the sidewalk as one argued with the other that it had been steeper the last time she saw it, and smiled at them as he passed by them, remaining unknown as the shade of a soul silently sliding underneath life.