Tight-Lipped

Denis Langlois stubbed out the remains of his cigarette and reached for another. They were sitting on the terrace of a café on the Ile Saint-Louis watching the sky turn pink behind the spire of Notre Dame, saying farewell after yet another cloudless day. Every table was taken. Come winter, the smokers would have the chilly streetside tables to themselves, the only place they could legally light up. In more clement weather, no matter how assiduously they blew clouds of smoke around them, they still had to put up with the competition of sun-worshipers.