The ticking of the old grandfather clock and its chime at half past, reminded him he’d have to wrap this up quickly. Pity. Just when it was getting good too.
He sighed. Well, that is the way of this modern day world. Rush, rush, rush.
It felt good to run his sticky hands under hot water. The cream colored bar of soap became a deep burgundy. Vanilla scented bubbles took on a pinkish hue as he lathered his skin; almost lovingly. A ritual he couldn’t help in keeping.
Shaking off the liquid, he reached for one of the towels hanging nearby. He paused, unable to resist to admire his handiwork.
Bath curtain rustled its plastic sound as it was pulled open.
There she lay, his chef-d'œuvre. Well, most of her. The rest could be found randomly placed around the house. A wry grin played upon his usually serious face. He wasn’t as artistic as his peers. No need to make a statement of ridiculous gaudiness. Being gauche, just wasn’t for him.
He closed the curtain, turning from it. Almost painfully. It was always hard leaving. All that hard work. But what needed to be done, was finished.
Just then, his cell vibrated against his leg. He reached in jean pocket and pressed the accept button. His face softened immediately. “Yes hun, I am on my way now. The meeting ran late. Is there anything I can pick up for you?” He waited and then chuckled, “Yes babe, I can bring that to you once Ioetta either goes out with her friends or falls asleep.” Another silence. “I love you too. See you soon.” The call ended. The joy of talking to his wife and of his daughter, was perhaps the one true good emotion he could ever feel. They were his world.
Walking through to the living room, he picked up his coat, laying it over his arm. A last sweeping glance to make sure nothing had been forgotten and then he was gone into the night, settling back comfortably in his black sedan.
