Cooke was tapping his chubby feet in impatience, his arms were crossed and his eyebrows furrowed, feeling incredibly irked.
He looked at the long line with a frown, the frown on his wrinkled face getting more profound as he saw the weaved baskets filled with various items in the arms of the shoppers.
When will it be his turn? Would there be enough stuff remaining by the time he entered?
He was so itchy. He wanted to go in there now!
His livelihood depended on it! Literally!
Cooke really didn't know what came over him buying a commercial unit with all his wealth with the current conditions.
He couldn't do anything with it at all, except sleep on the second floor, maybe!
He was a professional cook, yes, and he was also judged by the system to be in the profession. But so what?
He couldnt do anything! Who told him there were no ingredients! He really didn't consider it!
