Arthur knew very well that his value in the eyes of his neighbors in the quiet suburb of Bristol did not lie in being a good man, but in owning a complete set of carpentry tools and a small truck he never hesitated to lend.
On a sunny Saturday, he watched Julian, the young neighbor from across the street, approaching with a wide smile. The smile wasn't for Arthur's well-being—it was a prelude to asking for help moving new furniture.
"Oh Arthur, what a wonderful neighbor you are! I don't know what we would do without you on this street."
Arthur nodded silently and handed him the truck keys. In that moment, Julian "loved" Arthur. He saw him as the best person in the world.
The scene shifted to the inside of Mrs. Elena's house, the elderly woman who lived at the end of the alley. Everyone visited her regularly, bringing flowers and soup. Elena owned a large historic house—and she had no heirs.
Nora, one of the neighbors, would sit with her for hours, listening attentively to her tedious stories about the 1940s. But the moment Nora stepped out the door, she would check her watch in irritation and mutter, "I just hope she remembers me in her will after all this effort."
"Utility" was the invisible thread binding everyone to Elena. They did not love the wrinkles on her face or her fading memories—they loved the possibility locked inside her iron safe.
In the evening, Arthur sat alone in his garden. He saw the neighborhood cat approach, rubbing against his leg and purring softly. He placed a bowl of milk for her. She drank, then walked away without looking back. Arthur smiled bitterly.
"Even you, Clementine… love in exchange for milk."
Arthur realized that humans are not evil; they are simply opportunistic creatures. We love light because it shows us the way, and we love fire because it warms us. And when it goes out, we do not blame it—we simply look for another match.