The pavements and plazas always swarmed with tourists – camera phones plugged into their faces, so that Edward named them ‘Pac-a-mac Cyborgs’.

On days when he saw knowledge light up one of his student’s faces, Edward walked around the backs of the picture-takers and didn’t huff at the crowds shuffling slowly past the monuments and sculptures. But other times, when his class had grasped nothing, Edward got a bitter delight in stopping to blow his nose, or pick at his teeth in between the photographers and their subjects.

Edward had already forgotten that he too had once been a tourist.

***

I’ve been ill this week so I’m a bit late with my story. But on Saturday I managed to meet my mother in London for a celebration of her 70th birthday. I walked from Waterloo to Victoria, past Westminster Abbey, and the number of tourists helped with some much needed inspiration.

This piece of writing is part of the Friday Fictioneers writing group. Each week writers from around the world attempt to write 100 words (or so) starting with a picture, this week from David Stewart.

I’d love to receive comments and constructive criticism. Click here to read other people’s stories inspired by this picture or to join in, with the group hosted by Rochelle Wishoff-Fields.