And so Franck goes to the bathroom, a sweaty day for him, today. Wednesday was filled with bucket-fulls of ardent work. When will I sit down atop a glorious fortune and be able to command my own set of staff around my own office, biding time in royal luxurious comfort; he daydreamed about this all day!
But work is a young man’s fortune; and every old man seeks its reproof. Franck was stranded in an Newspaper printing factory press; pushing paper in the sales section.
He always looked up to Mary, the ever-efficient Mary, his Section head for inspiration to carry the day on.
“…sing along we everyone, we sing in triumphant tunes, we sing… Fascia soap!…” Franck heard the popular jingle on the TV of the popular beauty soap; the very one he was using. He laughed in his characteristic boom voice, sods of lather dropping from his finger tips.
Franck hummed to himself, the TV commercial jingle still whirring inside his mind. He made himself a pot of coffee, cooked some noodles and sat inside his sitting room, awaiting his much-awaited guest, Peter.
Glory be to the God in the Highest, and much peace and happiness to men and women of goodwill.