The Closet

Prologue        

It was a small closet.  It was hardly a closet, in point of fact.  Opening the door made you scratch your head wondering its purpose, but there must have been one as it had a door.  The house was old, a duplex actually, and must have been built in the early 1950s. A look in the attic revealed little insulation, but construction was with full dimension rough cut lumber.  The building was part of a large housing area that had been constructed for the occupying US forces following Germany’s defeat in World War II.  Construction gave the Germans jobs and income in the days that followed the war was badly needed; and payment was in US dollars.  The house was an exceedingly sound structure.  In a moment of hilarity, a child running into the wall didn’t bounce off or go through the wall as they might with modern materials, but splattered on its surface like a thrown egg might break and run down the side.  Concrete has that effect.

            One of the laborers during the construction was named Klaus.  He was an older man in his 60s and it fell to him to provide for his wife and his son’s family.  His son had died in the war and the job was a blessing.  He worked diligently and due to his age and experience, was given a position of responsibility in the construction project.  He was in charge of a work crew and the work was hard.  Hauling concrete into the basement and up to the second story was taxing for a man in his declining years, and Klaus was declining.  Minimal food and the hardship of war had taken its toll on his health, but he had little choice and rising to the challenge of being the provider for his family was the only option he saw. 

            As the walls for the second story of the building were nearing completion, Klaus noticed that there seemed to be some wasted space that couldn’t be reached from any direction.  It seemed that there should have been space between an interior and exterior wall, but it wasn’t on any plans and the measurements for the size of the rooms seemed OK, so he chalked it up to an optical illusion and maybe a little sloppy architecture, but it continued to bother him.  He knew that space was always precious in a house, and since he was in charge, he figured that he would improve on the plans a little.  He had one of his crew bring a sledge hammer to the spot, and he began to pound on the wall intending to break out a section of the newly laid wall.  He thought that if he could break through the interior wall, he could build a closet in the space. 

            Quitting time had come and gone, and yet Klaus remained, beating his way through brick and block and concrete and just as he had thought, the hammer opened its way into an unused space.  He continued to open the space up until it was big enough to step into, and he did. 

            When his crew returned the next day, there was no sign of Klaus.  They could see that he had opened up a space, and having no desire to brick it up again, they eventually lined it with wood and put a door on it, expecting that it would be little more than storage shelves.