The print shop is not there anymore. It was a small building.
"Hey," Mike obliviously snapped his gum as he tried to get my attention. "Can I, uh talk to you when you get back?"
He continued to chew, his gaze boring into my skull as he did so, like being in a staring contest with Burt Reynolds. At any minute I expected him to cackle.
"S-sure thing." He caught me off guard with the gum snap.
I could barely sleep on the plane trip from Philadelphia to London so what made me think I would fare any better on the two-and-a-half hour train into Paris? Yet in a single half-awake dream state moment I remembered back to that afternoon years ago.
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So, how is it? Feedback? I think I need to write an outline, but if I put it out there, it lives and breathes. That should force me to write it to completetion if there's interest.
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