"Major Clark 'ad me going in an' out of the city, New York, where the British're holed up. They still argue about who burned it, y'know." He smirked a... her."So you were spying again?" She studied his face and saw fatigue as well as the remains of scars. He did not look well, rather drawn, angular where there had been softness; somehow older, strained."No, no." He shook his head and looked away. "Not really. Jus' carrying messages. But he decided I'd been seen too often; too easy t'remember." He. I stared intently into the windows of the cafes, bars, shops and gyms looking for any kind of distraction from this daily torture. We pulled alongside a yoga class, lycra covered ladies of leisure straining their already immaculate bodies into incredulous positions. They looked like human statues, all frozen in time by some hidden force, the only clue they were living, the occasional quivering leg on a lady less versed in Vinyasa. I smiled brazenly to myself, remembering the last time my own. More

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