we would jump on board be in Paris in three hours just catch memories
n.b. Time was when the passing Eurostar was a symbol of freedom, opportunity and hope. Now it is simply a relic of days when Europe was a place we shared with our Continental cousins, a symbol of loss.
We don’t need to know why he had found himself standing on the bridge, other than it was something about his not being able to understand what she could not articulate.
He didn’t stand there longer than it took to think of his children, the paramedics who would have to pronounce him dead and whoever it might be that witnessed his last moments. He walked on towards the market wiping away tears with the heel of his palm.
He’d heard of an English language bookshop on the west side of the city and hoped he might find something to hold his interest there. Perhaps a novella, or collection of short stories from somewhere else, somewhere more engaging than a Victorian seaside town with less than half a pier.
toes freed, feet tickled by low-tide's sandy ribs every single little breaking wave a charge fired through shocked ankle bones sparking skin, heart, eyes whipping North Sea air from my lungs More waves! More waves! More waves! more Yesterdays