Ficly

The Lost Platoon

Prague, November 18, 2011

River Phoenix was nearly clipped by an aged, rumbling taxi as he crossed the cobbled street in Old Town. The driver was oblivious, as most were in Prague. Crossing the street, particularly at night, was always a test of fate. He glanced at its tail lights as it sped along the land and disappeared behind the canyon of buildings a few yards away, its fan belt still squealing in the distance.

That was his second close call tonight.

River hopped onto the sidewalk again and made his way down the flight of metal stairs planted into the stonework foundation of one of the city’s many ancient buildings. Prague had been soaked all day in an icy rain, leaving a chilled sheen on the streets and facades. The man followed a stone path through the arched doorway of a hotel and down a flight of stairs hewn from the foundation into the popular Bily Konicek’s restaurant.

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