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Something Silly


by Steven Miller


Paris, October 1989

I had the distinct and eerie sensation of being followed as I made my way down the Boulevard Saint-Michel. I moved instinctively away from my dorm room on the campus of the Sorbonne and toward the Île de la Cité, that tiny island which contains both the Cathédrale Notre-Dame and the smaller but more ancient Sainte-Chapelle.

I took this very same route along Saint-Michel regardless of where I was traveling in Paris as it gave me the chance to pass in between those two historic churches and to pass twice over the river Seine. Filling my eyes with glorious architecture and my nostrils with fresh flowing water was a great way to start the day.

Today's journey was not leisurely, however. I looked behind me and saw my pursuer again: a man in a sharkskin suit, black sunglasses even though it was overcast, and a black cap pulled down.

Once on the island, I spotted a small group of professionals waiting for a bus. I joined them.

"Can you believe this fog?" I asked a woman in a skirt suit. "You must be chilled to the bone."

She smiled politely but otherwise ignored me. Everyone at the stop was white. In fact, everyone on the little island that morning was white. A scholarship student from Côte d'Ivoire, I had about as much chance of blending into this crowd of white professionals as a black bean in a bowl of rice.

The bus arrived and, as the others boarded, I looked around for my tail. He was gone. The Paris Judoka Federation dojo was a long way off, but I decided to walk. It was vital that I make it that morning, otherwise, I would certainly miss my target.

Little did I know, my target already knew I was coming.

Find out what happens next, and then vote for what you want to happen after that! https://apsalmiknowbyheart.wordpress.com/2020/03/19/part-two-master-adoy/

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