The Floor Scrapers

Henri worked in the middle. He was the workhorse: scraping relentlessly, back glistening with perspiration and never an upward glance (at least whilst the clients were there). He was the only one that knew what he was doing, as he had been trained in the trade. Pierre-Antoine toiled to the left (that is, the propriotor’s … More The Floor Scrapers

Double Take

Her husband always sped up approaching the flower seller. A fierce impulsion drew him subtly forward. Every day on their wintry walks, with icy silence between them His gaze burned over the street, his arm stiff beneath her palm.   There she stood. Fleur. Auburn locks framing her scarlet bud of a mouth. Pinafore and … More Double Take