I might add more to it later, but this came from an assignment in history class to write a one-two paragraph story about…

The Life of…
A Factory Owner

I kiss my wife before taking a seat at the kitchen table. "How was your day?" She asks.

"Fine," I reply, "Some reformers snuck into the factory dressed as workers. We were able to run them off, but not before they managed to spread discord among the workers."

"You'd think they would give up and try to find work elsewhere," she states matter-of-factly.

A bitter smile escapes me and I cannot completely mask my sardonic tone as I say, "Where? Where have they to go? There are only so many jobs they can do. Do you suggest they should send their wives and children to me for work?"

She purses her lips. "Never, but you do what you must to survive. Not too long ago, Jonathon and I nearly ended up working in that dreadful factory. The Lord blessed you with this job and I am grateful for it. Never forget what the Lord has done for us and never abuse His blessings."

I look at the wall somberly for a few moments before I get up again. "I'm going to get Jonathon. We need to build a couple more coffins before sunset. We'll be back in time for dinner," I say.