Cities of the Dead
“Spraggue changed his sweat-soaked T-shirt for a short-sleeved sport shirt, and made sure the newspaper clipping was still in his pants pocket. He left his trench coat tossed over a chair.
It was hardly a walk, just to the corner of Conti and Chartres, pronounced “CONT-eye” and “CHAR-ters” to trip up the tourists. The rain had ceased; a faint Mississippi River breeze brushed against his bare arms. It felt clean after Joe Fontenot’s stuffy den, Joe Fontenot’s angry daughter.
Napoleon House was a bar he had frequented during that apprentice-actor summer. The peeled-paint walls, the orange glow from the hanging lamps, the spinning Casablanca fans were the same, like a set from an old film that had been carefully preserved. In spite of the heat, he shivered. He felt like he was walking into a scene from his past, from some other life he’d once lived, and he wondered if actors from that old company would rise and spout lines from Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, then invite him to join them at the ro...und wooden table.MoreLess
It was hardly a walk, just to the corner of Conti and Chartres, pronounced “CONT-eye” and “CHAR-ters” to trip up the tourists. The rain had ceased; a faint Mississippi River breeze brushed against his bare arms. It felt clean after Joe Fontenot’s stuffy den, Joe Fontenot’s angry daughter.
Napoleon House was a bar he had frequented during that apprentice-actor summer. The peeled-paint walls, the orange glow from the hanging lamps, the spinning Casablanca fans were the same, like a set from an old film that had been carefully preserved. In spite of the heat, he shivered. He felt like he was walking into a scene from his past, from some other life he’d once lived, and he wondered if actors from that old company would rise and spout lines from Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, then invite him to join them at the ro...und wooden table.MoreLess
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