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 stiffened. "I like to be prepared. I’m only here for three days." tourist
Elias was a "proper" tourist. He had the laminated itinerary, the pre-booked walking tours, and a portable battery pack that could jump-start a small car. He had spent months reading travel blogs like The Guardian to ensure he didn't miss a single "must-see" monument. But as he stood on the Charles Bridge, waiting for a sunrise that was currently smothered by a thick, grey fog, the checklist in his pocket felt heavy. Below, the Old Town Square was waking up
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. Elias stiffened
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.
"Because you look like you're working a job you didn't apply for," she said. "Go. Be a human, not a guidebook."