Strands of short brown hair floated about the summer wind, deranging Cora’s neat, straight bob. Her fringe also flailed about annoyingly, but Cora didn’t regret her decision. She had always wanted to know what it felt like to have short hair. It made it easier to travel, anyway.

Cora had waved goodbye to her friends forty minutes prior, and had been wandering the streets of Paris aimlessly. She didn’t want to join a tourist group with the rest of them; after all, she came to Paris for l’ambiance. Inhaling the scents of patisseries and brasseries as she crossed into darker alleys, Cora fumbled in her jean pocket for a couple of euros.

She was having fun laughing at tourists with maps and glaring at those with iPods when she heard murmurs from a narrow street some metres ahead. Even squinting Cora couldn’t see past the shadows. The only solution was to investigate.

“I’m telling you, man,” a agitated voice whispered. “If we don’t test it, no one’ll buy it.”

“But where-”

That’s when they both saw her.