The morning mist over the Seine River had yet to clear. Empty bottles left by last night's drunkards hung on the stone railings at both ends of the Saint Michel Bridge on Cite Island, while the river water gently slapped against the embankment, reflecting a patchwork of sky.
At the corner of the street by the bridge, there stood a three-story stone building, with wooden shutters swaying lightly in the morning breeze.
Below was a bakery, the aroma of dough wafting onto the street with the lingering warmth of the oven, mixing with the damp scent of the river.
The baker handed a steaming basket of bread to a young delivery boy, urging him to pick up the pace and deliver the bread to the cafes on the Left Bank before breakfast began.
