This three-liner is for Sonya’s weekly photo prompt.
Photo ©Stephanie McCabe
The baker’s window, with its display of fancy patisserie, always attracted the tourists, but they weren’t free with their spare change, too afraid of being mugged—as if only rich bastards have spare change to give away.
When the sun moved round, he’d follow it to the other side of the street where there was a supermarket and ordinary people who wouldn’t mind slipping him enough to buy a sandwich.
He looked down and met a pair of brown, questioning eyes and glanced contemptuously at the grinning, self-satisfied cakes in the window. “We don’t even like that crap, do we?” he said, with a half-smile and bent to scratch his dog’s ears.