A Pause in the Arcade

Seeking refuge from the midday glare, I slipped beneath the vaulted stone arcade bordering the square. The air within the corridor was noticeably cool, smelling faintly of aged masonry and damp mortar. Near the base of a fluted pillar, a shallow limestone basin rested beneath a retired cast-iron hand pump. I climbed onto the broad stone rim to rest my legs, grateful for the stillness away from the bustling stalls. Reaching toward the spout, I held my hand steady beneath the curved nozzle until a single cold droplet gathered and dropped squarely onto my fingertip, sending a tiny shudder of ripples across the dark, reflective pool.