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Gregor Hermann Samsa was a simple man.
After the war, he only wanted peace and quiet. He wanted to get away from the loud trucks and cars of city life. Oh, to see the stars at night, accompanied by the owls calling out for their lovers, coyotes laughing, foxes prancing…
He leaned against the trains window, holding his backpack as his healed amputated arm twitched with discomfort. People muttered among themselves, sometimes peeping behind their backs to look at Gregor. Yes, yes, I know. I know I'm that Mister Samsa.
He hopes his boss doesn't recognize him.
As the train halted, Gregor sat up, grabbed his suitcase and headed to the exit.
An older lady, Mrs. Meursault, had hired the man to take care of her prized show horse.. also named Meursault, though the woman told him that 'She had pleanty of names for him, mostly petnames. Just call him.. Meursault.' Gregor thought it was a strange choice, but he never owned a pet before, so maybe he just didn't get it.
He didn't know why he took the job, outside of Mrs. Meursault living outside of town, so it would be nice and quiet. He didn't quite… get along with animals. Not that he hated them, far from it, but they seemed to.. dislike him. Scared, would be a better word to describe it. Maybe it was his natural fear of them, not being around pets growing up (Hermann didn't like them), or even the animals outside, being a sheltered child.
But, taking care of a whole horse? That seemed easy. After all, it's just a horse. Humans wouldn't have used them as cars for so long if it was inconvenient. Surely, yeah.
Gregor called for a taxi, sat in the backseat, and told the driver where he needed to go.
"To Mrs. Meursault's? What a lovely property. You're a lucky one."
"Haha… I am?"
"Mhm. Lovely lake nearby, forest, beautiful house… more like a manor, or close to a mansion. Beautiful place."
"Ahh.. sounds wonderful. I'm just staff.." Gregor says, rubbing the back of his head. "I gotta take care of some horse. She only has one, apparently.."
"Ohhh, that horse? I heard things about that horse, that's for sure. Lotsa different things." The taxi driver says, huffing. But Gregor could tell he huffed with a smile.
A pit opened in Gregor's stomach. "Like… what?"
"Huge boy. Taller than this damn car! Muscley, could run over someone with ease and kill 'em. Dangerous when mad, but almost.. never mad? People used to say she cheated in competitions by putting him on some.. horse drug."
"Horse… drug?"
"Yep, no proof though. I heard she took the rumors with her chin raised high and dear Meursault decorated in all his ribbons he had won… ohh.." The older man sighs as if he's recounting a fond memory.
"Do you.. know her?"
"Mhh.. we go back. I used to drive her places."
Gregor didn't push on.
The older gentleman dropped Gregor of at the Meursault ranch.