Flash Fiction Story #5 -The Various Numerical Assesments of Hans and Artur

Perhaps if a passerby happened to glimpse through the window of the house that stood in the far end of the walled enclave that was Fuggerei, he would think that the two figures sitting by the kitchen table with their heads hunched over it in complete absorption were doing nothing else but praying for the soul of Jacob Fugger the Rich and his honored family members. This of course was the most straightforward assumption one would make, especially in Fuggerei. The fortunate inhabitants of this citadel had no other obligation other than to pray three times a day for the souls of the Fugger family and in exchange their rent was kept to only one Rheinischer Gulden per year, a ludicrous amount no matter what century one lived in.
Artur Ebestark and Hans Petersen did of course nothing of the sort. In their forty three years of friendship they had agreed to only one thing and that was that there was nothing more morally depraved than to be so selective in ones prayers. According to them a simple heartfelt thank you when the gates of Fuggerei had first opened for them had sufficed. Sitting by the old wooden kitchen table they each held a large rolled up cigarette that rested between their now aged fingers. Their hair was as white as the snow that covered the narrow streets outside their house. With their heads hunched over the table they were absorbed in concluding what was for them a sort of numerical assessment of their lives. Amongst the many papers that laid on the kitchen table one could find for example the number of afternoon teas the two friends had shared throughout their lives, which was fourteen thousand nine hundred and thirty four teas each, a number that seemed even larger when written out in words instead of numbers. There was as well an estimation of personal favors they had granted to each other. Out of the total four hundred and eighty three favors they were happy to find that one hundred and ninety six were granted by Artur, a surprisingly balanced number given his difficult character. And so on this day their various estimations, three hundred and sixty two to be exact, had concluded and the papers were being carefully organized by the two.
In the lives of these two friends there was only one shared realization that had astonished both and that was that hey had each reached contentment. Perhaps it was their desire to unravel this rather unusual sentiment that had led them to all their various estimations. Some days after, they found Hans Petersen and Artur Ebestark laying opposite each other on the kitchen floor with a bullet in each of their hearts and a gun by each of their spread out hands. On the kitchen table by the stack of neatly organized papers they found a paper that listed the number of ammunition each had used in their lives, two in total, one by Hans and one by Artur, a surprisingly balanced number given his difficult character the neighbors thought.