The Only Important Man in the World — Friday Fiction 3

He was the only important man in the world.

His goals, his needs, his aspirations — they ruled supreme over the other Earth dwellers, who lived subserviently to him.

At home, his wife meekly existed, his children occasionally being honored with his presence, when he wasn’t too busy doing something for himself.

He was never too busy to broadcast photographs of what a good father he thought he was.

No fist lifted against him and no word of contempt came his way, because he was too important for such trivial matters.

He excelled at all he did and had the best ideas — and when others were suggested to him, he laughed them off until the ideas naturally occurred to him later on in the year, at which point he took all credit for innovation.

People all knew who he was, what he did, and how well he did it because he had it all documented and broadcast across the world.

He was so concerned with his own future that he failed in only one way — indeed there was a fatal flaw to his astonishing perfection.

Outside of his own mind, he was just another man, existing as all people do, doing what people do, and making an average effort as all average people do.

If he could have only escaped his own mind, he could have accepted the counsel of another — or just see that he was not the only important person in the world.

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