Must be Magic

Short story published in Storm Cloud Publishing’s Open House 4 Anthology (August 2020)

Marge’s feet hurt in her light sandals that were completely unsuitable for the cobblestone streets. The clack clack of a motorcycle horn frightened her and she was beginning to think this trip to Paris had been a stupid idea after all. She realised she was hungry and had to make a decision about dinner. Perhaps she’d go back to the bistrot with the delicious chicken
casserole they called coq au vin. But she was tired so maybe she’d just buy some bread and cheese, a few olives and even a slice of quiche as she passed by the market stalls on the Left Bank and eat them in her hotel room. That would save a few euros. It was strange to think of John getting up for breakfast at this moment. Marge reckoned he’d probably finish all the meals she’d cooked and left in the freezer and then have to work something out for himself. Served him right. He’d totally scorned her idea to take a trip to Paris and refused to come with her.
Another motorbike nearly sent her flying and she climbed back onto the narrow pavement to elbow her way past locals rushing home from work and tourists peering into windows of boutique shops.
“Excusez-moi, Madame!” oozed a voice from the doorway of one of the shops.
Marge turned to look at the speaker. It was dusk. Perhaps he hadn’t noticed her age.
“Do you have a moment, Madame?”
So he’d guessed she wasn’t French.
“Have you heard of our product?”
“Er –” she faltered. The shop window was brightly lit and the word Ultrafixe appeared on every surface. No, she’d never heard of it.
“Where are you from, Madame?”
“Australia,” she said flatly, not impressed with the salesman’s fake charm. She preferred plain-talking men.
“Ah, our product is not sold there. Why not try it here today?”

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