With the wave of a duster, specks of dust went flying everywhere. The colours of packaged goods could be seen again.
Too bad customers had sensitive fingertips. They could easily detect the irritating touch of the tiniest speck of dust. Almost instantly, they put the goods back to their places and left the shop.
The owner of the grocery shop found nothing strange about the customers’ attitude. He approached the blurry window and glided a finger across it, leaving a clear trail. He lamented the fact that he had become old. His mind was no longer bright, so he had forgotten to wipe the windows from the inside. No wonder there was always an indescribable sense of misery lingering in the air. It didn’t mix well with the dazzling sunlight outside.
The owner lazily took out a bucket of clean water and a rag from the storage room. He took all the time in the world to clean the windows.
After having spent a busy afternoon, he picked up the duster once more, and re-dusted the goods.
The smog on the isle was a serious problem. It was all created from the factory in the eastern part of the isle.
He wanted to groan about it, but he didn’t know where to begin. After all, he had collected the factory owner’s money in secret back then, and convinced the rest of the residents to agree to build a factory here.
Karma took its revenge.
He suspected that his lungs had long been filled up with piles of dust.
When he went for a smoke, a spark from the cigarette accidentally lit up the dust particles in his lungs. In the end, he was burnt alive. The accident caused a sensation, and tourists flocked in to see the grocery shop, now completely out of shape. After that, they would visit the shops the other residents ran. Tourism was revived and money came rolling in for the residents. They bought the factory and rebuilt it into a hotel. Placed inside the hotel’s lobby was a statue of him, so as to commemorate him as the one who brought prosperity and vitality to this lonely island…
He was smiling like an idiot, while taking out a cigarette and a lighter as he was over the moon.
He tried to light the cigarette.
There was no flame.
There was no staggering death.
Nothing but only a daydreaming old geezer.