Alpes Maritimes

William Boyd

Anneliese, Ulricke and I go into Steve’s sitting room. Steve is sitting at a table writing a letter. ‘Hi,’ he says, looking up. ‘Won’t be a second.’ He scribbles his name and seals the letter in an envelope. The three of us watch him. He stands up and turns to face us. His long hair, bru…

Failed Saxophonist