A relaxing morning at a Parisian café with a croissant and a latte. I was enjoying my vacation.
Then I spotted him. Two tables away.
His plate held a signed check and his plastic. The man was waiting for me. A professional courtesy.
I should’ve been worried. The clock was running which meant I wasn’t long for this world.
I savored my last sip and dropped a few bills on my table. Then I smiled back, making sure our eyes locked.
He may have been one of the best…
But we both knew I was the only one walking away.
The Weekday One Hundred 