He was an arrogant snob. When people called him short, he’d ask them to stand up and see if he really wasn’t the measure of perfection.
People wished he didn’t do his job well. People with that much pride shouldn’t be good at anything.

“Who the hell does he think he is? He isn’t even that great.”

But when he was working, they knew that he was.

When he finished the job he went back to his desk. His coworkers glared at him through angry slits. He didn’t look back at them, and held his chin up in the air until all of them had left the building.

They didn’t really care about their work, did they?

They had forgetten already, hadn’t they?

Now they were with their families, or out getting drinks with their friends. And he was here, and his job was done.

He put his head in his hands, and cried.