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Summary
A quiet snort left Beatrice as she rose to put her headphones back on. The sound of jazz filled her mind as she navigated her way out of the museum. A beautiful August mid-day received her at the doors. It’s rather nice. The sky seemed to be naked of clouds, but the gentle breeze reminded her why she was wearing a knitted sweater in the first place. She made her way to the shops a couple streets away from the flat as a practiced footpath hummed beneath her feet. No face went unseen, all remained unnamed and without fail, her own voice was left unheard.
Or, A tailor meets a teacher in London and a story unfolds.
