Grenouilles

He hesitated for a second, having almost forgotten his old routine life, from all of a week ago. He reached for his phone and automatically fell back into his brain dead robot routine business procedure. He clicked it on, launching effortlessly into a highly formal rendition of "M.F.C. Limited, Edward Smith speaking," professionally betraying none of his current emotional turmoil. The news that was delivered into his cochlea destroyed him. The all-important deal that had earned him this rare holiday, had fallen through. He was as good as unemployed. He ignored the avalanche of apologies from the other end of the phone line, turning it off without saying anything. He focused ahead of him, catching a last glimpse of Aline before she turned the corner. His eyes clouded up. The magnitude of his losses pried at his mind. He could feel himself slipping away, so he feverishly searched for some kind of consolation, some comfort. He found it. His eyes locked with the staring man's - still, as ever, sitting against the grand Arc despite the heavy rain. For a fleeting moment, Edward was totally carefree, lost in the other-worldly gaze of the staring man. He was suddenly aware that he had started walking towards the seated figure. As he got closer, he noticed that the man appeared to be dry, despite the fact that there was no cover above him.

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