Tourist

"Three days to see a thousand years of history," she mused. "You’re not a tourist; you’re a ghost. You’re drifting through without touching anything."

"The sun?" Elias asked, checking his watch. "The forecast said clear skies." tourist

"Because you look like you're working a job you didn't apply for," she said. "Go. Be a human, not a guidebook." "Three days to see a thousand years of history," she mused

He stayed there for three hours. He missed breakfast. He missed his 09:00 walking tour. He sat on a stool, watching the light shift across the square, listening to the chime of a dozen different grandfather clocks in the room around him. "The forecast said clear skies

For the first time since he landed, Elias didn't look at his watch. He wasn't a tourist anymore; he was just a man in a room, in a city, at a moment that wasn't scheduled.

Below, the Old Town Square was waking up. He watched the first wave of tour groups arrive, their colorful umbrellas bobbing like cereal bits in milk. From this height, he could see the intricate gears of the great clock through a side window, humming with a life the people below never saw.

Elias looked at the key, then at his itinerary. Opening shutters wasn't on the list. It would push breakfast back by forty minutes.