(no subject)
Simon Skinner stands at an intersection staring up at the sky-scraper. He had already seen the eye-level part of this street while walking to the art museum. The skyscraper hadn’t caught his attention then, perhaps because the sun didn’t hit it as beautifully as it did now. He never thought skyscrapers beautiful before. He grins. A time for everything, right?
He crosses the street, filing away the memory of the reflective squares blazing white, yellow and blue. He’s cold. Of course he’s cold. He’s in Chicago. It’s winter. He’s going to be cold. To abate this, he will step into the café nearest Ana’s bakery, buy a cup of coffee, and finish it in Ana’s bakery. With a pastry, most like. If Ana has a hand to spare and Simon’s within arm’s length he usually winds up with a pastry shoved in his mouth. He can’t complain. The pastries are always great.
A few blocks away from the bakery Simon spots a pet shop. There’s a hole in his pocket and maybe, just maybe, it’s burning for something that shop might sell. He steps inside, takes a look round, and a few minutes later he’s walking out with a fishbowl tucked underneath his arm. Inside of that fishbowl is a plastic bag full of water, containing one goldfish. Named-? That’s for Ana to decide.
It’s been a good morning, all in all. Saw great art, saw a beautiful skyscraper, bought a nice goldfish, and now he has surprisingly delicious tea in a medium-sized paper cup.
He’s starting to like Chicago.
It’s all Ana’s fault.