Post Cards

They were not representative of the sights he had been seeing, but they were there, and they would do.

“Tu veux un petit sac?” The old man sighed from behind the counter, eroded from having repeated the same question over and over again, like a sample in a hip-hop instrumental.

“No, merci” smiled the man, and walked out of the bureau de tabac, past the Romanian beggar lady, through the herd of hysterical school children, across the cobble stone square, and into the serenity of the cathedral courtyard. The distant clock tower reported an orderly nine, perfect, perfect. Behind the cathedral, the courtyard was always deserted.

• Page 1 - Post Cards"They were not representativ..."