James
It’s a nice area. A pretty area. And it’s a day for seeing it at its best.
Yachts and pleasure boats float in bobbing ranks on sparkling water. Tourists walk by with ice creams, tossing coins to cross-legged artists sitting by pavement chalkings. Shops sell souvenirs, art and holiday wear.
The apartment block is clean and well-maintained. The hallway as we approach the door smells of new carpet and fresh paint.
Mitch stands outside the door, seeming to gather herself together, then taking a breath, she inserts the key, turns it, opens the door and we step inside.
It’s… lovely…
Sunlight dances over walls painted in soft neutral colours. They complement the furnishings, made from some pale golden timber, perhaps beech.
“Can’t fault his taste,” comments Michael.
Paintings dot th
