Despite Jerome's efforts to remain entirely passive, his body occasionally betrayed him. Carla Davis, a twenty-four-year-old graphic designer taking self-defense classes, was the first to notice.
During a Friday session, Derek carelessly threw a heavy, wet towel directly at Jerome's face as he walked past the mats. It was a fast, unpredictable projectile. Without thinking, Jerome's hand snapped up, catching the towel just inches from his nose with blinding speed and absolute stillness.
He immediately slumped his shoulders and pretended it was a lucky, clumsy grab, but Carla wasn't fooled. She had seen the lightning-fast twitch, the sudden grounding of his stance. It wasn't the reaction of an untrained janitor. Carla kept her observations to herself, but her eyes lingered on Jerome with newfound curiosity.
Bored and scrolling through his phone over the weekend, Derek decided to search Jerome's name online. It didn't take long to find public military records detailing Jerome's eight years of service and honorable discharge.
For a brief second, Derek felt a pang of realization. But rather than respect the man's service, Derek's insecurity twisted the information into new ammunition. On Monday, he paraded the discovery in front of the entire class.
"Did you guys know our janitor was in the army?" Derek announced loudly. "Eight years serving the country, and he ends up scrubbing our floors. What a hero!" The disrespect hung heavily in the air. A few students laughed nervously, but others looked away, uncomfortable with the relentless cruelty.
The breaking point finally arrived on a stormy Thursday evening. The dojo was packed, the air thick with humidity and the sounds of exertion. Derek had just finished a grueling sparring session and was looking for a way to assert his dominance.
He spotted Jerome mopping the entrance hallway. Marching over in his sweat-drenched gi, Derek deliberately kicked Jerome's bucket. Dirty, soapy water splashed violently across the freshly cleaned floor, soaking Jerome's boots and pants.
"You stink like bleach," Derek sneered, stepping aggressively into Jerome's personal space. "You disgust me. I'm tired of looking at you."