Elias was a "proper" tourist. He had the laminated itinerary, the pre-booked walking tours, and a portable battery pack that could jump-start a small car. He had spent months reading travel blogs like The Guardian to ensure he didn't miss a single "must-see" monument. But as he stood on the Charles Bridge, waiting for a sunrise that was currently smothered by a thick, grey fog, the checklist in his pocket felt heavy.
He looked at his map. 06:00: Sunrise at Charles Bridge. 07:30: Breakfast at Café Savoy. tourist
Below, the Old Town Square was waking up. He watched the first wave of tour groups arrive, their colorful umbrellas bobbing like cereal bits in milk. From this height, he could see the intricate gears of the great clock through a side window, humming with a life the people below never saw. Elias was a "proper" tourist
Elias looked at the key, then at his itinerary. Opening shutters wasn't on the list. It would push breakfast back by forty minutes. But as he stood on the Charles Bridge,
He was so busy calculating the walking distance that he didn't notice the woman sitting on the stone ledge until she spoke.
"The sun?" Elias asked, checking his watch. "The forecast said clear skies."
He stayed there for three hours. He missed breakfast. He missed his 09:00 walking tour. He sat on a stool, watching the light shift across the square, listening to the chime of a dozen different grandfather clocks in the room around him.