Space:1888

August 22nd 1888.

For some reason, the night is clear. The smog is gone and the moon is clearly visible overhead. The horse-drawn omnibuses wait at the sides of the road whilst the horses are changed and the drivers and conductors take a break.

The gentlemen wait along both sides of the street; some for the horse-bus and others for other reasons known only to them.

One of them, Henry Picklewell, is merely taking time out. Time out from the thick pea-souper. Time out from his busy day. Time out from his pointy shoes, although he couldn’t possibly take them off, not in polite society.

Being a cordwainer has its stresses, as Henry knows all too well. The cobbler next door has it much easier, but then the cobbler doesn’t get to see the gentleman Henry does.

Henry looks up at the moon. One day, he thinks, someone will be up there. Walking around on its surface, and they’ll need  new shoes to do it.

He looks back at the cobbler’s, noticing the light from the moon reflecting on  the window.

Such a beautiful night, he thinks. I think I’ll close the shop for today and head home. It looks like the horse-bus is about to leave… I might be able to take the last space on the top deck.’