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Peeling potatos was a less-than-glorious job... |
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...But he had to start somewhere. After all, even Einstein failed math in school.
Although he had a great love of cooking, he never thought to actually take it up as a profession. Rather, he sought something far more lucrative; quick, easy money that would pay for diapers and an every-changing wardrobe for his girlfriend and unborn child. Honnete was at home, most likely, while he made trek after trek looking for odd jobs, scrimping and saving what he could to send back home. Although he'd been planning a grand and glorious wedding for his girlfriend and himself, the possibility was looking less likely by the day, especially when one considered the jobs he'd held down lately: Delivery boy. Hitman. Dishwasher. Exterminator. Cleaning animal skins for the tanner's guild in San D'oria. Fisherman. All small jobs with small pay for not-so-small hours of backbreaking work. His heart grew heavy when he thought of Honnete and his unborn child, at home, alone, while all he could send were letters and bags of gold from wherever the next job took him. To escape the gravity of his current situation, he began to daydream, delving into old memories and old dreams, a faint smile daring to dance upon his lips. Tossing a finished potato aside and grabbing a new one, he pressed the peeler to the skin and began to sing to hismelf, lowly, humbly.
"A call uie.
A'c tahyd ij nadarg cu sizy jih uie.
A vort ti lmhyoc at ti tny vihsd, rit kyyp at behayd ovou.
Psyoly, psyoly. Psyoly micy bomk nicy."
It was a longing for better days. Better dreams and better goals. He missed that warmth he used to feel and the confidence with which he laughed when he knew, when he knew this was how it was meant to be. Before Doubt cast its cold shadow upon him, he was happy. He was happy, carefree, and wholly, truly in love. And when the pressures of reality weighed down too heavily upon his shoulders, he sometimes subconsciously reached for a hand which had for so long been right beside him, only to wrap his fingers around thin air. It was on those days when he felt colder inside than the winter winds, and sang again to remember the perpetual summer he used to live in. Perhaps all wasn't lost, however. Perhaps the sun was rising on a new, better period in his life. After all, he had a good woman wearing his ring and a baby on the way, a dollar in his pocket and a prayer in his heart. As long as he had faith, he would be all right.
Yeah... he would be all right.
 Bleeding Apocalypse · Wed Oct 25, 2006 @ 06:07pm · 0 Comments |
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