The weather that day was cold and autumn. People were walking through the snow that had fallen a few hours ago and were going to their homes. Orange autumn leaves were scattered on the ground. A writer's papers were scattered on the ground. He bent his head to pick up his papers. A lady was looking for a gift for her sister in a hat shop, and a man was running with a box of sweets to get home early and wish his wife a happy wedding anniversary. A poor sibling would cut the donut in half to eat and enjoy together. It was a pleasant evening that was ruined by a tragedy.
This disaster was not an event or an act that was done. This was the tragedy of a man who came out of his house to buy himself a custom suit. It was a quiet evening. This man was usually found in his private time. But in any case he was a disaster. Even if he did nothing.
The question is, does being a disaster make sense only with the presence of people or is it something that sticks to one's identity?
As he was thinking about this question, he went to the shop to find out if he was less of a disaster now that the number of people was less.
He opened the door and stood. He was looking at the ground. He was standing there lost in his thoughts.

"Sir...?"
"Huh...! Yes?" He came to himself and raised his head. The owner of the shop suddenly backed away. Seeing the man's face, the fear that entered him was indescribable. His face was not ugly. It was curry. Not in appearance. It was from something inside the body. It was as if all the nightmares of life could be seen in his red eyes.
After all, he was a disaster.
"Wh-did you need something?"
"Yes. I wanted a suit of clothes… a men's suit of my own."
The tailor came and measured him, but he was afraid to approach him.
He wanted to talk to her in order to make her fear go away.
"Um... are you ready for a special event..."
"No."
"Ah... I see." He regretted that he said anything at all.
"I'm spending to live. Is that a problem?"
The tailor looked at him. "No… no sir."
The man smiled his special grin. A scary smile as if he was ready to kill the other person. But anyway... it was also a kind of smile. It was as if he was ready to swallow life.
The tailor wrote down the numbers and put them on the fabrics.
Then he asked him to write the man's name on the paper. Of course, he became famous after one of his own disasters. (If you are curious, the details were about a little girl being crushed under the man's feet.)
The man was lost in his thoughts again.
"Sir?"
"Um..."
He was still lost in his thoughts.
"Sir!"
"What is it? Why are you yelling?!"
"Excuse me... in whose name should I put the dress?..."
The man was silent for a while.
Her black curly hair fluttered in the air and fell on her face.
"Mr. Hyde."
© Mehraban.K.T