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The Facilitator

A Story Every Day in 2024 August 24th 237/366

By Rachel DeemingPublished 2 years ago • 2 min read
The Facilitator
Photo by Aamir Suhail on Unsplash

She put her head in her hands. Another disappointment. How do you win?

"You don't," a voice said from behind her. "That's not your role."

She jumped, startled and turned to see a suited gentleman, leaning against the wall, nonchalantly, smiling gently at her.

She had no words.

"Which is telling for someone who thinks that they always have the words, isn't it?" And he smiled more, and, she felt, mockingly, which irked her.

"Ah, I'm just messing with you. Don't mind me."

Finally, Louise found her voice. "Who are you? And how did you get in?"

The man laughed. He really was quite attractive, Louise found herself thinking.

He stopped and said, "Let's address one thing at a time, shall we? In answer to your last thought, don't get too hot. I'm a part of you, and if you wanted me that would be weird, although," and he looked to the ceiling, thoughtfully, "it shows self love and awareness, which is no bad thing."

Louise went to speak and he held up his hand.

"No interrupting! You know how you feel about people not listening."

Louise remained silent.

"I'm here," he waved his hand, "because I'm you. See me as a Man-ifestation of your inner voice."

Louise frowned.

"You see, sometimes, in order to see the truth of a situation, you need to take yourself out of it and," he gestured to his body, "this is your rather unusual way of doing it."

"Weird," Louise said and added, "How do I know what you're saying is true?"

He shrugged. "Intuition?"

Louise opened her mouth and he put a finger to his lips.

"There are people in life who smooth the passage of others. They are the grease that eases, the leg-ups, the support."

He paused.

"It is not your role to win; you are a facilitator."

Louise sighed. She knew this man-ifestation was right. She was a sidekick. To be a winner, she had to accept that success would come to her through people she chose to uplift; or rail against this role and continually feel the slap of failure's hand.

She summed it up, using the power of her words to express it:

"Fuck."

***

366 words

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237/366

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About the Creator

Rachel Deeming

Storyteller. Poet. Reviewer. Traveller.

I love to write. Check me out in the many places where I pop up:

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    Written by Rachel Deeming