Vanishing point

Somewhere in France, 2008

Somewhere in France, 2008


Tiffany rested her elbows on the old stone balustrade.

A rangy stray dog rubbed its head on her bare legs. The short razor-cut edged hairs prickled as its muzzle pushed against her.

“Shoo,” she said bending down to push it away. “Get away from me. Why does it like me so much?”

“Must be your perfume.” Edith grinned as she helped to push the dog away. “Christ. It’s covered with fleas,” she said, brushing her hand down her trousers. “Look you can see them jumping.” Edith held up her hand to Tiffany who peered closer lifting her sunglasses up to get a better look. Edith flicked up her hand catching Tiffany’s chin. “Made you look!” she said jumping backwards.

“Bitch,” said Tiffany. “That hurt.” She rubbed her chin. “Do you really think it had fleas?” she said.

“Probably,” said Edith. She watched the dog wander off down the footpath to find another victim.

“It’s a nice day today,” said Tiffany, tilting her face up to the warm sun.

“Sure,” said Edith. “Can we go in now? I want to check out the dungeon. There’s a tour in fifteen minutes.”

Tiffany rolled her eyes.

“Really?” she said. “You need to see a dungeon?”

“Yup,” said Edith. “I’m thinking of leaving you there.”

Tiffany landed a playful fist on Edith’s arm.

“Ow,” said Edith. “You’re stronger than I thought.”

“Come on,” said Tiffany, turning to run away from her.

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