Past Transgressions

I offered out my hand and took the map from him.

“Cheers mate, I’m a little bit lost, I reckon,” he said.

I didn’t recognise the man, but part of my cover involved helping the locals, blending in, so I knew I’d better.

“No worries,” I told him.

But as I glanced down, I realised he was lost for a reason. I was rusty, had taken my eyes off him entirely. He knew this.

The second-to-last thing I remember seeing were the pages of that stupid “Bristol Pub Guide.”

The floor racing up at me was the last.