Last night when we were leaving Le Cirque, Snaps was almost blinded by the pooparazzi’s flashes going off. “Let’s scram,” he muttered out of the side of his mouth, around his recently-lit cigarette. “Oui,” I concurred, feeling my kneecaps turn hot from the glare of the lights.
We scrammed, heading for a far more comfortable, if less glamorous, address across town.
*UPDATE: This was an accidental post here, but hey — why not link to my new blog, a blog for Snaps, since we have a lot of fascinating conversations in my head. http://sirsnaps.wordpress.com/2013/08/15/scram-in-the-apple/ This is the first post. 😀