Was it fate that an hour ago I saw you squeeze your Peugeot into a tight parking space on the narrow cobblestone street? You, dear young woman, dressed in a slinky green metallic dress with slinky gold sandals, holding a bouquet of flowers. You, dear young man, dressed for a summer evening out on the town in crisp slacks and button-down shirt, carrying a bottle of wine. It’s likely you were headed for a friend’s flat when I asked you, “Do you speak English?” You said you did, but you really didn’t.
Two Flash Pieces: Philately; To the Young Couple Parking the Peugeot, Brussels
