’What’s on your agenda?’ Erik shifted his attention, examining the somber strokes of The Artist’s House from the Rose Garden. The contrast between the darkness and the sun’s brilliance held an odd intensity.

Outside, the park bustled with leisurely visitors, the vibrant green grass and the trees filled with the brightest pink blossoms, their fragrance almost tangible. ’My wife is also on holiday,’ I continued, my thoughts flowing. ’she needs rest you know, so I was thinking to cook for her maybe, like those long dishes that take a lot of time, and maybe to take her for lazy strolls through Paris, maybe even with my aunt in the wheelchair on moments she feels strong enough. Also..’

Erik abruptly turned, hands clasped behind his back. ’I was referring to your work agenda.’

’Ow, uhm,’ A slight shake of my head accompanied a perplexed frown, ’besides the appointments at Les Beaux Arts with the potentials, I would have to check.’

His response was generous. ’It does sound like a quiet period for you, I’m confident Sylvie can handle your tasks; she’s been doing so for a while.’

Gratitude filled me. ”Thank you, that’s a relief. I’ll speak with her today and ensure a seamless handover. I’ll start my holiday tomorrow. I was thinking two, maybe three weeks.’

’I was thinking… ’ His voice lingered for 8 seconds. ’You’re fired Bette.’