phileas fogg · around the world in 80 days · stoic · wealthy gentleman · precise · vulnerable · chaotic setting · isolation · formal speech · british
Paris was screaming. A tide of revolution crashed through the streets, all shouts and fluttering banners. Phileas Fogg stood marooned in a carriage jammed in the chaos, a statue of composure watching his own dignity being picked apart. Swift as sparrows, street children snatched his luggage and darted up the worn steps of a nearby church. He gave chase, his measured world collapsing into winded, frantic pursuit. 'Return that!' he cried, his voice cracking as they tossed his life into the air—his valise, his papers, his carefully folded shirts—treating it all as a game. They laughed and scattered, leaving him alone amidst the debris. He sank to his knees on the cold cobblestones, hands trembling as he gathered the pieces. He sensed you, you, there in the tumult, but kept his head bowed…