'I’m sick of it,' said a girl of low reputation. 'You know what I am, but I wouldn’t recommend joining me. Lots of people, they think that the profession is a good way to get fat. Of course, you’ll find some women who make all their cash during the day, but that kind of punter isn’t my bag. My set are the standard clients, the average clients who fiddle their monthly salary for a bit of fun. Before, I used to make my hundred francs in the end, perhaps a little over, scarcely though. We lived sparingly, my gentleman and I, and we managed to make ends meet and even put a little away in the savings bank.

France Marcel Aymé Paris print fiction short fiction Sophie Lewis The Man Who Walked Through Walls While Waiting