Farewell

"You can't come in here!" the man exclaimed.

This made Adelard even more frightened, taking it all for plays of his imagination. Barely on his feet, Adelard didn't listen any further. He simply took a step forward. The wide doors were so close and that doorknob, which was already a little old, rusted from time, still glittered like hope. But Adelard did not reach that hope. For that man pulled him back again with the words, "You can't come in here. Go away!"

"What? Who told you that?" Adelard asked, realizing that the man was probably crazy.

"Madame Celeste," he replied.

"What?"

"Monsieur, do you not hear well? I told you not to come here, didn't I? Don't take up my time. If necessary, I will call the gendarmes!"

"Is this some kind of joke?" Adelard asked looking around. His world was breaking right before his eyes. His life seemed so strange that he slowly began to lose his mind. Throwing his suitcase to the ground, he smiled and then rushed abruptly to the door. Finally, once inside the factory, he calmed down. Everyone was working as usual. His people, his family. Everyone was brewing the future soap and everyone was carrying the bars in their hands, which were then covered in a golden wrap. But when he spotted his best friend walking on the second floor, across the iron bridge toward the stairs, he called out, "Jean!" Hugs and laughter were expected, but no. Jean merely looked at him and walked away in silence. "Jean! Tell me what's going on here! This is a joke, isn't it?" Adelard asked. But everyone kept working as if they hadn't seen him. "What's going on here anyway? Somebody tell me!" Walking between the iron cauldrons, Adelard looked at everyone's face, but no one looked at him. "Stop kidding around," he said, stopping beside one of the workers he knew well. But the young man didn't even pay attention to him. Unaware of what was going on, he stopped in the spot from where he always liked to watch the others work. But even from that spot, he could not understand the reason for such indifference. "Jean, say something! This whole thing scares me!" he shouted when Jean came into view again. "Jean! Don't be silent!" But his friend remained silent. There was sadness on his face. Too much sadness to look up and tell everything. "Please," Adelard whispered, unable to think anymore, to wonder. A pungent and unpleasant smell hit him like a fist. Grabbing his head with his hands, he felt dizzy, and suddenly, he realized one thing. He realized that this place no longer belonged to him. But why and how could this happen? Without noticing how he ended up on the floor, Adelard looked ahead in silence. Everyone continued to work as if he were not there. No one looked at him, no one said a word. "Can you hear me?" Adelard shouted loudly this time, pushing one of the workers. Feeling that it was real, he calmed down a bit. But nevertheless, the fear was strongest. "Why are you acting like this? Why?!" His screams filled the entire factory. But there was only silence in response.

"Monsieur, I think you should leave," the young gendarme said, who was now standing at the door.

"What? Tell me why?" Adelard could not hide his emotions. Everyone saw his world crumble before their eyes.

"Monsieur, there is no need to get in the way and bring trouble. Come. Everything will be explained to you," the gendarme said, pointing his way. "Come. If you do not go, we will have to use force," he added, looking at him as if he were someone too bad for this ideal society. What was left for him to do? He just followed him and without noticing it, he was already sitting in the gendarmerie.

"Monsieur, can you hear me? Monsieur, you must no longer enter the factory. It is no longer your property. Like everything that belonged to you," Monsieur Pierre said as if it were all unimportant. Adelard could not understand anything. But Monsieur Pierre understood his question through his eyes and continued. "Monsieur Adelard, you yourself wanted it to be so. You yourself gave all your property, your inheritance, to your wife." But Adelard remained silent. "Adelard, listen. Everything is legitimate. No one has cheated you. You gave everything to your wife yourself. But why do you act as if you didn't know about it?"

"I don't understand," Adelard whispered quietly. Too quietly for anyone to hear him.

"Your wife owns your factory, as well as all that was left to you from your parents," Monsieur Pierre went on as if it was all funny to him.

"What?"

"Don't you understand me?"

"Why doesn't Celeste tell me this herself? Where is she?"

"Now, I'm talking to you."

Adelard laughed nervously. Never before in his life had he been so lost.

"Have some water."

"No thank you."

"Monsieur, you wanted it yourself. So why do you look like you don't understand anything?"

"I don't understand."

"Well, maybe you need to see a doctor. Celeste told me you weren't feeling well. Maybe you need to see a psychiatrist!"

"What?"

"Monsieur, I can't tell you anything else. I have a lot to do. So if you have any questions, just ask your wife about everything and my advice to you, go to a doctor. I'm not a doctor, but I think you have memory lapses."

Adelard stood up in silence and without saying anything, walked away. He felt like he was just a puppet. The world swirled around him, he swirled around the world. An eternal symphony of life that only knows how to surprise and nothing else.

"Adelard." That gentle voice stopped him, stopping the symphony in his head. The world stopped spinning too. Everything became the same.

"Celeste?"

"Don't look. Just stay where you are," she said in a commanding tone. Now, he had no doubt that he had always been nothing but a puppet.

"Celeste?" he said her name questioningly. He continued to stand where he was.

"Don't come to my house and factory anymore. Remember, none of this belongs to you anymore."

"Celeste, did you love me?" he asked, as if everything else was nothing to him.

"Adelard, you are a good man," Celeste said. "Goodbye."