CafeLitMagazine

It had been the occasion of the year at St Medard’s – the Bishop’s Visitation. It had been decided that the service be held on the Sunday af...

He could swear her hair turned a more intense red when she got angry, as if catching fire. Perhaps it was just the light, the way she was st...

  A Love Kept Faithfull. They carefully edged their way into the coffee shop, he a little painfully, aided by his two lifelines: his wal...

Well, that was that, I thought. With my aunt’s death there would no longer be a reason to come here. I had time for a stroll around, a trip ...

It was Saturday night, but he retired early to bed. He had to be at the hospital by 6 am in the morning to start one of those long, thirteen...

The old man regularly took a walk twice a day from his house down on to the beachfront, once in the morning and for a second time in the lat...

  Christophe Pichon was still there. The blurry glow emanating from the gas lights in the dairy across La Place de la République made him lo...