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About Montpellier

Once caught her nickin’ bread—skinny thing, starvin’. Broke me heart, it did. “You’re not alone,” I told her, tossin’ a coin. She laughed, said, “Ain’t we all?” Fuckin’ gut punch, that. Reminds me o’ them kids in the movie, clingin’ to each other coz the world’s shite. She’s no vampire, mind, but she’s suckin’ the life outta punters’ purses—ha! Good on her, I say.

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Finally, I grab the pastries and head back to the shop. I’m feelin’ a bit better, but then I see my neighbor, old Mr. Dupont, tryin’ to fix his car. He’s got the hood up, and it looks like a scene from a horror movie. I’m like, “Need a hand, Mr. D?” He just grumbles, “Nah, I got it.” But we both know he doesn’t. I can’t help but chuckle.

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