When the master sat at breakfast he did not yet know that this was the last day—of course there would be other days, but the end was written and he couldn’t change it despite his bluster: The last day when servants would salute and bow, when children would return his wave...
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...when staff would laugh at his jokes or make excuses for his lies, when his family would vie for his favor, when enemies would quake at his insults, when tradesmen would flatter him and extend him credit. It was the last day; but he didn’t yet know it. #TolstoysTalesofTrump
