The Museum of Failures

by Thrity Umrigar

There is no room for hope in the museum of failures. Even if it hangs on the walls for a moment, it usually comes crashing down.

He now lived in a country riven by the same tribalism and hatreds that haunted lesser nations. He had always seen American democracy as a giant oak tree, with roots that went more than two hundred years deep. But it turned out the roots were shallow, held in place by custom and good manners, and all it took to lay them bare was one man who refused to play by the rules of civility and democracy.

And yet there was something to be said for friends who knew you before your identity was formed, when you had only half emerged out of your shell. Who had seen you cry when your debate team lost the citywide championship, who knew the name of the first girl you’d fallen in love with.

This was what held the world together, this unsung army of silently suffering standing women.

Humans, Remy thought. Who can figure them out? Complex, contradictory creatures, impossible to pin down or reduce to their best or worst traits.

This was how destiny was formed, Remy decided, not by what was written in the stars by some distant god, but by human choice and effort and courage. All he had to do was be brave.