Harold

I met Harold in the sauna. I’d say he’s in his late 60s or early 70s. His potbelly stomach was wrapped with a waist or abdomen support bandage, his breathing at times laboured and deliberate. Perhaps a medical condition. We made small talk about the sauna and gym memberships. Harold spent his younger years as an electrician before switching to computers and database work. He has two older brothers.

No wife, no kids. There was one woman. “I thought I was close once… but no” as he shakes his head.

He chuckles and rubs his arm as he explains, “you know, there was a time when I was considered the black sheep of my family.” Hard not to read into that.

I left feeling strange. Sad, perhaps. It’s easy to construct narratives around the people you meet. Easy to fill in the gaps or feel sorry for someone.

Maybe Harold is just be another older gentleman hitting the sauna on the regular. Maybe that’s best.