Where Cows Go Meaux
A schoolhouse, not too big and not too small, sat proudly in the middle of a grassy field. Small farmhouses dotted the fields around the schoolhouse. It was almost as if they huddled near the schoolhouse for warmth.
At a quarter past three, the school bell rang and all the children flooded out, hurrying home. One particular boy named Anton Saint-Girard skipped along, looking at the things around him. He lived in Marseilles, a town that was not too small and not too large.
Every evening, Uncle Umbert sat in the reading room, with a book in one hand and quite possibly a piece of cheese in his other. Sometimes it was a silky slice of Camembert. Sometimes it was a smelly Tomme de Savoie. On the rare occasion, he would have a clump of Brie de Meaux grasped in his fingers. Brie de Meaux was Anton's favorite.
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