"You're absolutely right," Theo Evans says.
"I don't care about understanding, that samurai warrior's pride. But..."
He lays a blueprint for renovating the printing press equipment on the table.
"I'm saying, sacrificing the young lamb to save pasture for its aging mother, is a logic no sane man accepts. Anyway... you are a man logic cannot argue with."
Henry sits hunched, sketching with his finger in a pile of cigarette ash.
Theo pulls out a pen and leans in, tapping Henry’s head.
"Otherwise, your shrewd aunt's lectures would have stimulated the white matter inside this Florisbad skull of yours."
Henry swats Theo's hand away, agitated. "Get your paws off me, you lecher! Do I look like I'm enjoying myself here?!"
He grabs the blueprint and shoves it into a desk drawer. Then, he turns towards the wall where a hanging mural of his grandfather awaits.
Theo sits down, dangling his legs like a clothesline across the desk.
"Let's be realistic, Henry, it’s an era that’s gone. Who wants to buy a ten-pound book when they can get it for ninety pence online?"
"As long as there are books, there will be readers," Henry replies without turning around. "The paper's output will cover operating costs. I'm not seeking a fortune from this."
"It’s an impoverished market, Henry, it’s not like it used to be. China has monopolized the yield... you’ll just run out of the race. I understand your attachment to the place, but..."
"I hate it!" Henry snarls, his voice a volcanic eruption.
He turns, flames practically spewing from his eyes. "I loathe this place with every fiber of my being."
He strides into the hallway and stops.
He bows his head, staring at the faded granite floor, and speaks with weary heaviness.
"Every corner of me aches, Theo."
An ash falls from his cigarette, landing in his glass of juice. He stares it for a moment, then grabs the glass and shouts, "But I am a sinner!"
He raises the glass high and smashes it down on a glass table. The glass shatters, the table cracks beneath his grip.
Blood wells up from under his glove like a rocky spring, mixing with the berry juice, dripping down in a purple stream.
Silence hangs for a minute.
Henry’s jaw quivers, trembling.
Theo grips his arm and lifts his stiffened hand.
"Let's go," he says. "I know how we'll treat you."
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"Do you know how long it's been since I came here?" Henry asks.
"Since I brought you eight years ago," Theo replies.
"The place was more beautiful then. Unfortunately, the Tees Transporter Bridge is closed... we would have enjoyed a stunning view from above."
"It is indeed so from below. But why did you bring all this pizza?" Henry retorts
"Eat. Today you're under my shift. After we finish here, we're heading to my place. Maggie always asks me to bring you."
Henry smiles in surprise after polishing off two boxes of pizza.
"See? I told you, your appetite just needs a shock of spicy flavor to revive it," Theo nudges him with his shoulder.
"And now, let's awaken those dormant taste buds."
He hands Henry a bowl of blue banana and carob ice cream topped with liquid cocoa cream.
"Holy shit!" Henry exclaims, licking the ice cream voraciously like a hungry pup.
"You know what?" he says, brown cream smeared on his chin. He wipes it and licks his finger. "You know, Theo? I forgot there were such pleasures in life."
"They exist," Theo replies. "You just have to take off the Buddhist monk's robe to see them."
Henry leans back on his hands, gazing at the barely moving waters of the River Tees, and asks, "Do you think we'll get a good offer on that cottage?"
"I don't think so," Theo answers. He wiggles an ear with a cleaning bud, and adds, "The location is very rugged, we'll have to set a reserve price to avoid selling it for free."
"Maybe I'd argue that if we were talking about the plot next door." And looks towards Henry.
"No," Henry digresses
He gets up, brushing grass off his trousers, then turns to Theo, who is sleeping, propping his bag as a pillow.
He throws a stone into the valley, then shouts at the top of his voice:
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"Long live the Kingdom of Navarre!"
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"What's the secret to your perpetual vitality?" Henry asks Theo, who struts around the billiard table, playing against himself.
"My wife, Maggie," he replies.
He bends down, picks up the cue ball, and leans on the cue stick, saying, "She makes strawberry pancakes that I eat every morning, with smoked eggs and pepper salad. I top it off with mango juice. My body glows afterward, like a high-pressure condenser."
Maggie walks in, carrying a tray with nuts and anise tea.
"Here you go, Henry. I haven't made dinner yet, but you can..."
"You can count on going home stuffed if you stay for the evening," Theo interrupts.
"No, I'll leave in a while," Henry replies.
"Why the rush?" Maggie says, about to sit down. "Ah, I forgot the paper napkins," and she prances back towards the kitchen.
Theo perches on the edge of the table and rhapsodizes: "There she goes, like a graceful gazelle cutting through the savanna."
Maggie smiles and sits down. "He's learned, Henry…" She takes a sip of tea. "He's learned the language of flattery from the divorce cases he defends pro bono."
Maggie wasn’t really a gazelle; but a wild, untamed mare, a woman with a captivating figure, her hair cascading like a waterfall touching the foothills of her waist, with a scar above her lip that uniquely amplifies her allur.
Maggie pours tea and offers it to Henry. His hand trembles, and he almost spills it.
"Bugger," he curses, then apologizes.
"It's perfectly alright," Maggie assures him with a refreshing ease. "We also…" She coquets with amber eyes, "…sometimes utter linguistic enhancements, especially Theo in moments of his vigor," and she sweeps her hair back with a clip.
Theo pins her with a knowing look, then runs his finger across his throat – a cutthroat gesture.
Maggie places her hand on her cheek, pondering Henry’s hand, then says, "By the way, I like the glove idea, Henry."
"I told him that too," Theo interjects. "He looks like Sherlock Holmes trying to pick up crime scene evidence."
"Ha, ha. Not funny," she scolds him.
Henry remains rooted to the spot, like a nail hammered into a wedge.
Maggie calls to him, "Henry, are you alright? You look tired."
"No, not at all. I'm fine," he replies.
"Actually…" Theo pops a cluster of cashews into his gullet, "…he suffered a severe bout of sadness today."
"That's unfortunate," Maggie responds. "You need a change of scenery."
"Not a bad idea," Theo leaps up. "How did I not think of that? You really haven't left this gloomy city in a century."
"Actually, I've thought about it," Henry says, "but like the rest of the things on my to-do list… I haven't found the time."
"Then, you should start with this," Maggie suggests. "If you ask me, Barcelona would be a wonderful destination."
"Yes, so what little he has left can be pickpocketed there," Theo quashes.
"Henry isn't fond of the bustle; he prefers antiquity. I advise you to set sail for Ostia, where the past meets the present."
He smugly crosses his legs. "And if you fancied awakening more stagnant cells, in that area, there's a beach offering gelato in flavors of…"
Maggie flicks a pistachio at his head.
"Let the man speak; you're deafening us with your squawking."
"If I traveled, I'd probably visit Braga," Henry says.
"We went there, Chloe and I, on our first anniversary, and we took a commemorative photo in front of a historical castle."
He smiles and scratches his chest. "Emma, whenever she'd see the photo…" A strong desire seizes him to light a cigarette.
He looks at Theo, then at Maggie, and quenches his thirst with a glass of water.
He continues, "I would jokingly tell her that King Arthur lived there. She kept begging me to take her to see him, despite my admitting it was a lie."
"You war criminal," Theo says. "How could you manipulate a tender bud? You are indeed sinful."
"Quiet," Maggie interrupts. "There's no one more sinful than someone who makes a living defending criminals like you."
She continues, "Henry, why not visit Braga and take Emma with you?"
"I don't know," he answers, looking towards Theo.
"Don't look at me," Theo says. "You heard her. I will not defend criminals."
"What about… you know, that business?" Henry stalls.
"Weak argument," he answers. "Besides, we still have two weeks, and your presence is even pointless."
Henry sways forward, then rocks with sudden enthusiasm. "Damn hesitation! Let's go to The Portugal’s Rome!"
Maggie gets up, saying, "You aren't leaving anywhere before having dinner with us tonight."
Henry watches her walk away, "How did a wild gazelle like Maggie end up in the mouth of Theo's swamp anaconda!" he says to himself, lost in thought.
Then, realizing, "Damn, did I say that out loud?"
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"No, you didn't," Theo answers. "But I heard you."
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and then Add to home screen.