Chai, Espresso, and Spanking

A Tale of the Founders of Nouveau Montmartre

George hated Manhattan. Hated it. Hated the scale of it, the streets merely canyons between buildings that shot up over one hundred storeys, their tops bristling with communications hardware. Hated its shiny newness, the bright opaque windows of its skyscrapers, and its fake oldness, the carriage horses plodding through Central Park. The only good thing about Manhattan was that bloody park. He hated it, every inch of it, and all its boroughs, too.

But he needed work, and at the moment he hated the West End more. So he was sitting in one of Manhattan’s innumerable coffee shops, working his way slowly through a stack of papers and flyers in hope of finding something worth auditioning for, and drinking their tolerable espresso, wondering if it was going to snow.

(more…)

Add a comment March 19, 2008