Sharp-Edged

Having been buzzed through a tall fence that closed off the Square du Docteur Blanche, Franck found himself face to face with a massive white box propped up on stilts, its narrow, horizontal upper window like a robot’s eye-slit. The only entrance he could see was to his right, where the building deigned to rest upon the ground, presenting another spotless façade scored with wide rectangular windows. As he headed towards it, the door opened in greeting.