“Do you know the way to the train station?” she asked him.
“Yes. Down that way three blocks, the take a left. You’ll see it after four blocks, can’t miss it.”
She smiled at him in thanks and made her way down the street. It was a lie. That wasn’t the way to the train station. He didn’t know where the station was. He’d never been to this city before.
Why did I do that?
Perhaps it was because all men were bastards, and because he was a man, he couldn’t help himself. That didn’t seem fair to all men, though, to be judged based on his actions alone.
Perhaps, then, it was just him. He was the bastard. But that didn’t seem fair to him, to call him a bastard based off one action.
It must be her fault, then, for asking me.
Pleased, he hit the pedestrian button and walked into traffic.
High Urban Fantasy Jazz 