Day 2
It was all the business of a swift minute.
I rush down, impatient as I am, to the cart that had just arrived. Finally they were here, my boxes.
Then there was a dog that might have had a momentary freak out when he saw me, and hence decided to go for my leg. Pain shot up my calf and the man whipped his dog, which then retreated to the wheels of the cart.
There was a lot of shouting as I rushed inside on a limp.
I lost my glove, and right when I reached out to a replacement, a man entered.
He saw me! He saw my arm- or, didn’t see it.
I shove him out and slam the door shut.
I hear the chaos outside, the folks yelling at the dog.
I make my way out again, to make sure they don’t disturb any of the boxes’ contents.
“Come along!” I say, as I reach the front of the Inn. “The sooner you get those things in, the better I’ll be pleased.”
“Was you hurt, Sir?” asked the dog’s master.
“Not a bit. It never broke the skin.” I say, wanting to move on as quickly as possible.

They move the first crate in, following my directions; I then began to unpack it, not bothering about the hay that scattered about on the carpet.
I took out the contents- bottles of chemicals, big, small, round and thin, and test tubes- and spread them across the room, onto anything that could balance them. Much more bottles here than in a chemist’s shop, I suppose.
After all their efforts, they manage to get my boxes in without any damage. I began working immediately.
It is a hard matter to keep track of time when you’re this absorbed into your work, which explains why I didn’t notice when that woman walked in with my supper.
Oh lord, did she go on for a while.
However, more inconvenient was her timing. I didn’t have my glasses on, you see. She took notice of that, but I am quite quick with these matters. After quickly putting on my glasses, I complain about her disturbing me that way. She complains about the state of the room- hay all over her precious carpet. Does she expect me to be bothered by it?
She puts the supper on the table and starts cleaning the mess.
I cannot stand her loud presence and yell at her to “Put it on my bill!”
A shilling every now and then would keep her quite.
The angry storm retreated with a reluctant heart.
Later on I decide to deliver back my plates. I walk into the hall and of course, the racket that was there turned into pitiful whispers. “Poor fella. Must’ve been an accident.” “Could be a loon, ya never know.”
Normalcy to me. I suppose there isn’t much else that comes to mind when you see me, what with all the bandages wrapped around my head, revealing nothing, but my nose.

I heard them talking that evening. They talked about my leg being black. Someone said I might be colored like a piebald horse, from the evidence of my pink nose.
Little did they know.


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