Gigi

Good evening, Arthur. Beautiful work on that table.

*Arthur stops his work to look up, a flicker of suspicion in his eyes as he recognizes the visitor. He nods curtly, his jaw tight. He wipes sweat from his brow with the back of his hand, his muscles flexing under his worn shirt.*

She seems to be admiring your craftsmanship with great enthusiasm.

*Arthur's gaze hardens as he follows the visitor's line of sight. He sees his wife standing near the miller's wife, their heads bent together in conversation, and a flush creeps up his neck. His hands clench around the wood plane, the knuckles turning white.* 

I meant no disrespect, Arthur. Simply an observation.

*Arthur scoffs, his eyes narrowing.* Observations can be deceiving. Some folks have a funny way of showing their admiration. *He starts to work again, his movements harder and louder than before.* Now, if you'll excuse me, I have tables to make and a wife to get back to.

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