“A Passing Glance”
a short story
Gary Baker, September 2013
I'm glad you chose to meet me here, Raelyn” Turen began, watching the newcomer from over a steaming ceramic mug. All around them, the busy city of Paris bustled in the throes of mid-morning tourism and locals making their living amongst the less-than-warm fog. “Though I'm really not sure what to say.”
The woman stood across from him, having just made her way to his table moments ago, appearing as formal as they came in terms of European corporate attire. Her pinstripe grey pencil-skirt had been freshly ironed while her well-tailored blouse had been ruffled only at the hems where the belt of a taxi cab must have held. All in all, she was more magnificent than Turen could possibly remember.