Jessica adjusted the focus on her lens. In the distance, the rows of people on either side of the road marked where the cyclist would come. Even on full zoom, she couldn’t make out the tiny specks that would be the leaders.
She wished Abraham had been here to share this with her. They both loved France and they had planned to cycle across it themselves. Their route was substantially less challenging, but equally scenic. At the last minute, Abraham’s grandfather had taken a turn for the worse and he was spending what might be his last days with him.
The crowds were hushed, a sense of anticipation ripping through all of them.
Turning her focus, Jessica pointed her camera to the icon, the dominant feature on the landscape. She’d climbed the Eifel Tower many times, but it was still striking with it’s perfect outline.
Again, she fiddled with the focus. There would be spectators watching from the first observation deck and she could almost make them out.
The camera fell from hands, saved only by the strap around her neck, making it thump against her chest, a chest instantly empty and devoid of heart.
Abraham was kissing another woman.
