PHOTO PROMPT © Jennifer Pendergast
“Of all the ridiculous…not Quebec again.”
Gerald sat on the steps heedless of melting snow making the rear of his jeans cold and wet. He propped his elbows on his knees and set his forlorn looking face in his hands. His gaze darted around the concrete stairwell. “Le Petit Champlain. I know where I am. A damned quaint, picturesque tourist hole.”
He stared upward as if seeing through the clouds. “Look, I’m trying to find the ultimate evil down here. Get your bloody coordinates straight for once.”
“Sorry,” said the chagrined voice in his ear. “We’re still experiencing technical difficulties.”
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