‘He had reddened around the edges. A little long in the tooth and a tad worn on the brow. But despite a fickle complexion which seemed to neither like nor acurately represent him, Nathan was filled with bristling energy that the best of his days were yet to come.
With languid eyes he pored over the maps he had assembled, consulted his many notebooks, and took another swig of the bitter but cold beer he’d ordered in the cafe. The clatter of the street his table was damn near in the middle of rather than elegantly skirting was free from most of the buzz Nathan had come accustomed to during his so far shortened stay. Paris was quiet, and this was suspicious.
But he’d dallied there long enough, and as he drank down the last swallow from the dull amber bottle, the piercing chink! sound of the glass hitting the steel table as he set it back down there and made to leave was like a starter’s pistol signalling the beginning of this new adventure …’ S.H.