Exiled to the rooftops, he sat contemplating the late afternoon settling on the skyline of Paris. His shoulders sore from hauling clothes up seven flights of stairs. He’d only been there two days but the ashtray already teemed with tiny butts.
The winter clouds resisted the vernal sun, but evaporated into the eager sky. The bustle of the city echoed below on the streets just above the Grand Boulevards in a neighborhood that he didn’t recognize. In another situation he would have been happy, soaking in the sense of possibility the Parisian spring always promises. As it was, he only felt abandoned.
This wasn’t the first time he had started over. When Sarah had left him years ago he’d ended up living in a van. What a long winter that had been. If nothing else he had a room now, though not much bigger than that damn Dodge. Solitude’s sudden silence hollowed his bones. » Read more «