Francois leans back on the sofa, his eyes tightly shut and lets the phone fall from his hand onto the keyboard of his laptop. "Please, you guys, just give me a minute."
Carl and I each remain frozen in our armchairs, unable to say anything at all. Sheeba the cat comes in and advances straight towards Francois, and sits down on the floor in front of him, letting out a gentle meow. he reaches down and strokes her on the head gently.
"That was the Abbott?" says Carl.
"That was the Abbot."
"Then it's all done."
"Now I can move forward."
"He used to call you the little black boy?" say I with a sense of revulsion.
"I consistently refused the old pig's advances while I was a seminary student. That was his way of getting even. Microaggressions." He looks momentarily at his laptop screen, then says, "Carl. When you're done writing your article about Amanda, I'm going to be next. Got it?"
"Agreed..."
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