February Rain in Paris
Note: This is an excerpt from a story I wrote while living in France at turn of the millennium. A story about rain in Paris. Among other drizzly things… To read the full story contact me and specify “February Rain” in the your message.
Rain in Paris (Photo: thezartorialist.com)
It had been about half an hour since she dropped him off. Maybe a little longer. He hadn’t actually checked his watch then, nor could he see the clock now. Not from where he lay, slumped on the couch.
He had promised himself not to take a nap as he waited for the elevator in the lobby. He was shaking the water from his raincoat and waiting for the right elevator to descend to bring him up to the seventh floor and thinking, “I really shouldn’t fall asleep when I get home. I really should do something productive.” The right elevator because the left elevator was out of commission for a month. An entire month seemed an unreasonable amount of time for repairing an elevator, and he’d said so to the concierge. But the concierge had only shrugged…
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