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He was basically a businessman, he got off of work, he prayed for money, he slept, he ate, and then he went back to the building where he was occupied with building a contraption.

But the businessman had only a small role to play in the construction, or rather the invention of the contraption, yet even so he believed that his role in the project was large enough to warrant a certain amount of respect from the woman who lived next door to him, who also had an office much like his own but worked across the lake and would sometimes gaze upon him from her office window with a long seeing device that relayed his image into the laptop computer that lived upon her desk.

Moreover the man felt that this woman who lived next door from him should at least say something to him or communicate to him in some way while he ventured outside his home to water the plants or rearrange the polished rocks which he had artfully stacked about his garden, but she never would, and never would he, if only because of the principle, or because her beauty choked him, so to speak, and would cause his face to flush.

“Of course I can be counted on,” said the businessman to the florist while at the counter of the flower shop.

“And so can I,” returned the flower lady who also owned the shop, and who was 63 years old with long, healthy, and graying hair, attractive teeth, and a toothy smile.