Tourist

He stayed there for three hours. He missed breakfast. He missed his 09:00 walking tour. He sat on a stool, watching the light shift across the square, listening to the chime of a dozen different grandfather clocks in the room around him.

He was so busy calculating the walking distance that he didn't notice the woman sitting on the stone ledge until she spoke. tourist

Below, the Old Town Square was waking up. He watched the first wave of tour groups arrive, their colorful umbrellas bobbing like cereal bits in milk. From this height, he could see the intricate gears of the great clock through a side window, humming with a life the people below never saw. He stayed there for three hours

"Three days to see a thousand years of history," she mused. "You’re not a tourist; you’re a ghost. You’re drifting through without touching anything." He sat on a stool, watching the light

"The fog doesn't read the forecast," she shrugged. "You’re the type who likes to be on time, aren't you?"

"The sun?" Elias asked, checking his watch. "The forecast said clear skies."