The Archivist by Estelle Birdy
he Archivist, leather satchel in hand,
picked his way through the tables and chairs to his spot in the corner of the
terrace, overhanging the river. Nodding to Raul, the waiter, he took comfort in
this, his daily pre-work habit. The sun was already warming the glass table top
as he leaned his weight onto it, propping his oak walking stick against its edge
and finally settling himself into the yellow cushioned chair....READ MORE