The Snowflake Chronicles

The Oarsman's Breakfast

The Oarsman's Breakfast

He came each day to watch her, beauty incarnate. Love, of course, had blinded him to her faults. He did not see the frown she fixed upon her latest companion, only the smile she flashed him as he stood watching her eat the breakfast he could not afford to buy. He hoped that she would stop again today and sing good morning in the melodic tone she used. The melodic tone she only used with him. She and her companion got up and the man, an obvious stranger to Paris, tossed the waitress a large amount of money.

The oarsman stood watching them approach him. She smile and kissed the oarsman on the cheek. “This,” she said to her companion, “is the best oarsman in the city. He will guide your boat to where you wish to go.” Then she left, to find another customer, while the Oarsman watched her walk toward the rising sun.