The old man stood with his back hunched in the tiny restaurant that he owned. Usually there were plenty who used to flock around by the dozens, but today not a soul wandered. He sat next to the simmering vat of vegetable stew, carefully warming his frozen hand. He began to peer at it closely, now realising how wrinkled his bony hand had become.
The slapping of a hand drew his attention towards a table which belonged to a hungry customer. Quickly, the old man began to drop in a few onions cultivated specially in his garden. Slowly he began to spoon them into the simmering vat of stew. He stopped dead as his hand accidentally touched the hot metal pan. Gently, he pressed the burnt flesh and dropped the spoon as the pain worsened. Slowly he transferred the stew into a bowl.
The slapping began to start again, growing impatient by the second and the old man sighed in distraught, wiping his sweaty brow. Slowly he reached out for the bowl and walked towards his customers chosen table. But his heart skipped a beat, and he almost dropped the bowl he was holding - for his customer had gone!
They had probably wandered off into the next shop and decided that his restaurant was no good. He closed his open mouth and set the bowl on the table, clearly upset. The tears began to flow down from his cheek. What happened next was quite unexpected.
With terrible fury, he brought his fists hard upon the table and screamed, which caused the chopsticks settled in a jar to knock over.His fists came crashing down once more, and he rubbed his aching head. Bending down on his knees, he violently began to slap the floor with his sweaty palm, grimacing in agony. Suddenly, the faint light in his restaurant began to grow dimmer and dimmer, till at last the place was dark. The old man wearily stood on his stool, and onto the table, reaching for the light bulb as to make it brighten up again. Thin wisps of smoke spread around the room and he coughed, touching the light bulb cautiously. He reached out and rubbed the bulb with his sweaty palm. Almost immediately it turned on. Convinced that his hand was miraculous, he stepped carefully down and straightened up the upset chopsticks, wondering what a difference it made to cure a bulb.
The warm glow of bringing the light bulb to life filled his body. Slowly he began to ponder when another customer would turn up...
The slapping of a hand drew his attention towards a table which belonged to a hungry customer. Quickly, the old man began to drop in a few onions cultivated specially in his garden. Slowly he began to spoon them into the simmering vat of stew. He stopped dead as his hand accidentally touched the hot metal pan. Gently, he pressed the burnt flesh and dropped the spoon as the pain worsened. Slowly he transferred the stew into a bowl.
The slapping began to start again, growing impatient by the second and the old man sighed in distraught, wiping his sweaty brow. Slowly he reached out for the bowl and walked towards his customers chosen table. But his heart skipped a beat, and he almost dropped the bowl he was holding - for his customer had gone!
They had probably wandered off into the next shop and decided that his restaurant was no good. He closed his open mouth and set the bowl on the table, clearly upset. The tears began to flow down from his cheek. What happened next was quite unexpected.
With terrible fury, he brought his fists hard upon the table and screamed, which caused the chopsticks settled in a jar to knock over.His fists came crashing down once more, and he rubbed his aching head. Bending down on his knees, he violently began to slap the floor with his sweaty palm, grimacing in agony. Suddenly, the faint light in his restaurant began to grow dimmer and dimmer, till at last the place was dark. The old man wearily stood on his stool, and onto the table, reaching for the light bulb as to make it brighten up again. Thin wisps of smoke spread around the room and he coughed, touching the light bulb cautiously. He reached out and rubbed the bulb with his sweaty palm. Almost immediately it turned on. Convinced that his hand was miraculous, he stepped carefully down and straightened up the upset chopsticks, wondering what a difference it made to cure a bulb.The warm glow of bringing the light bulb to life filled his body. Slowly he began to ponder when another customer would turn up...
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