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The beauty of the life
Finally washing and smelling the scent of his soap, Adelard took another deep breath and remembered every corner of his factory. Every sound, every smell, and every look of his employee. He could still hear his shoes beating out a certain rhythm on the iron floor, on the stairs that led him up to his office. He could still see in front of him the way the soap was made. The danger with which everything around him breathed. And as he once more smelled the scent of the soap, he smiled slightly and began to put on what Percival had given him. It was a plain white shirt and black trousers. These clothes smelled of his soap too and when he put on the shirt he felt a kind of luck and heard the rustling of his wings. Yes, they were still behind him.
"Are you ready?"
"Yes."
Percival came back and looked at him, then picked up a comb and said, "Your hair, let me help."
"I can do it myself."
"Your hands are shaking Adelard."
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