12
St Martin-in-the-Fields Church. London, England. 9.13am
Tourist crowds streamed into Trafalgar Square, another busy day in this glorious city as Morgan walked up the steps of St Martin-in-the-Fields. She never tired of coming to London, although her retreat would always be Oxford. This city was life in all its infinite variety. There was no stagnation, it was ever-changing. When people couldn’t take the pace anymore, they had to leave, because London wouldn’t wait. Its waters rushed on, drowning those who couldn’t stay afloat in the myriad depths.
Morgan had walked past St Martins many times but had never actually entered. The daily concerts had tempted her, but there were always other things going on. Jake had suggested it as a place to meet, somewhere they could talk before seeing
