Afterlife:
In the Other ParisAs we exited the cemetery gates, a freezing wind rushed at us, and purple clouds hung low, threatening heavy rain again. From the high tops of skeletal trees, fat black crows followed our movements. My feet scuffled along, chafed by the heavy sabots always about to slip off, because they were too big for me, but I was grateful to have them as the ground had turned to thick, smelly mud. The world looked strange now, wrapped in gritty, gray mist and pervaded by a faint odor of sewers, smoke, and decay. It was all quite changed from the tidy neighborhood where I had arrived a little over an hour ago. Theo padded along beside me, his tail a plume in the air.
The streets, previously deserted, teemed with people as on a market day, but without the bustle or gaiety.
