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.

He looked at his map. 06:00: Sunrise at Charles Bridge. 07:30: Breakfast at Café Savoy. tourist

She stood up and handed him a small, battered brass key. "My nephew runs a clock repair shop three alleys down from the Square. He’s late today because his daughter is sick. If you open the shutters for him, he’ll let you sit in the loft. You can watch the Astronomical Clock from above, away from the crowds. No ticket, no line." Elias looked at the key, then at his itinerary

"It's not coming," she said, her voice raspy. She was wrapped in a wool coat that had seen better decades, holding a thermos. He looked at his map

"The sun?" Elias asked, checking his watch. "The forecast said clear skies."

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.