If only Amy showed up, he would had been any happier than the last he was, but she did not. Even the slightest of her hair had become obsolete for the time being, and thinking that she and her parents were past the archway as the ship would not leave for at least an hour or two, taking the time of their chances on roaming and looking for something that they would not ever find in France, and he continued thinking and walking.
He then reached the five-step stairs upwards the archway of which his parents were there looking at him, and his mother shouted to call a helper to carry the box Micael was carrying. "Help him, lad. I do not want my child to find any trouble around here," she said and the helper quickly got up and chased Micael's whereabouts of which he had reached in no time at all.
Micael handed the box carefully to the helper and procee-ded and said his very thanks and continued traversing the steps. He hence found himself walking easily without the starry look between his steps with very stretched neck. Each step sounded like a mild hit of the horseshoe on concrete path, and every one of one sounded just like it. Every 5 thumps coming from the heels of his boots, he had reached his parents. "I just thought you would like to stay in Paris, darling," said his mother with the sarcastic tone behind every syllable and touch his cheeks and caressed it, as if he was still just a toddler of one's age (though he was around no reach of Rebecca's arms when he was still a child) but he liked it. No other being would not want a touch from those they had been known as their mother, otherwise one had been not living fully at its very extent at all. "Where are we going to eat, father?" Micael asked as he reached for his coat, fixed it, and done his hair once more with his comb from his pocket of which he reached in quite smoothly. He smiled, and so did his father.
"My friends said that the nearest wonderful inn is just around the corners, though it might take us some time. I mean, we got ourselves eaten, right?" "Not for me who just slept from the very end of our lunch," Micael followed with a laughter and all of them continue walking while his father's arm was wrapped above his shoulders and his mother standing afront of them. They continued walking while being mesmerized on how the British streets differed from those of which they had been traversing on for some half of their time.
They could hear the murmurs of the people around them which adorned the thumps coming from their heels. On the side rested a man with his fruit stall of which the murmurs were coming from. They could decode some of the words being shouted by those who wanted to buy his goods. "Some apples, will you?" were heard, and there were apples and beside them were pears, grapes, watermelons and a myriad of berries. On the other side of the pathway was guys who were betting on a carriage race which would be held downtown at night.
They could hear their cheers and shouting about bragging their very horses and carriages made of fine materials which could last dozens of impacts from their ramming, as the bet was quite large and so does their prides. Some were mocking the other betters who had decided to wage a lot of their money for the race and one was overheard by Micael while they were walking halfway. "I drop my 5 large. Anyone betting higher than a that?" but he ignored his words and all of them continued walking.
"You heard that, son? They're trying to race this a night. Sadly, we aren't allowed to watch as it's kind of illegal now a day," his father uttered from his mouth, separating like wings, to his right ear with glee dancing along the waves of his voice, and Micael found himself laughing. "I do not want to see one helluva race, though. Would watch boxing inst-ead rather than one shitshow which circling like madmen," and he laughed towards his father's face while ignoring the sting coming from his wounded sole and he managed to hide something that was never worth to be known of, and he walked quite normally and usual than the last, like the last.
A few eager steps more, and from the ship they had reached the side of the road where omnibuses where arrayed like flowers. Their doors were open as the helpers put their belongings inside and making sure everything would be placed at the back of the omnibuses. Some were doing fine while some struggled to lift because of how heavy those big boxes had gotten into.
Micael's father let go of his shoulders and grabbed himself a pre-rolled tobacco to smoke down the street of which he did immedi-ately. "I thought smoking here is kind of bad, father?" Micael asked as his father placed the roll unto his lips and biting it with his. He got himself his lighter from the inside pockets of his suit and replied to Micael as his hand rummaged. "You see, Micael, we aren't brits at all so laws of theirs don't apply to us," he said sarcastic with the grin right behind his eyes which Micael had gotten from the very first place. He knew that his father would utter the very same thing as before. Intelligent but kind of a nut sack to even hold unto, and so laughed in the latter as well. He kept on looking into his father as he got the lighter into his hands and lit the roll with it. He then sipped the smoke like vacuum and grabbed the roll with his two fingers and placed them correctly in between, took it off of his lips as it separated, and smoke came ghastly out of his wonderful mouth.
It looked like shower mists and pale clouds from those he could see above his head. They were fluffy like feather and gigantic like lollies of which Micael would really want to snack himself one but 'twas more than just his thinking.
...