There was a peace in the courtyard of the hotel that he thought was gone from the world. A good strong pot of coffee wordlessly placed on his table, fresh fruit and fresh croissants, pristine white tablecloths under wide cerulean umbrellas which were in turn under a wide and cloudless azure sky.
He took his breakfast there every morning and between sips of coffee closed his eyes and listened for the not too distant sounds of the river. Waves lapping ancient stone bridges, the lonely cries of sea birds.
It was one of those hot sticky days, full of barbecues and running around town, and followed by one of those long summer nights where no one wants to go home and everyone just drink and drinks.
Jack brought Molly back to his apartment. It was a little after two in the morning and the both of them were exhausted. He watched her peel off her t-shirt and drop it on the floor, then unsnap her bra which had left delicious little red marks around her back and under her arms. For some reason Jack liked the marks. He liked to touch them and even run his tongue over them. Molly would have none of that in the heat though. She was sweaty and smelled like smoke and dirt and beer. She pulled off her shorts and underwear and slunk off to the bathroom.