“What is it, then?”
“Practical.”
“Because the bag is heavy?”
“Because I want my hands occupied.”
My breath catches before I can make it behave.
Damien looks ahead, giving me the mercy of not watching my face while the sentence lands. That may be the most dangerous thing he has done so far.
We walk toward the canal.
The city changes as we move. The market noise fades behind us, replaced by morning traffic, the scrape of café chairs, the soft rush of bicycle tires over pavement. Damien knows where he is going. He does not check his phone. He turns down narrow streets, crosses at the exact moment gaps open, avoids tourist-heavy corners without comment. It is not tour-guide confidence. It is lived-in familiarity.
“You know this area well,” I say.
“Yes,” Damien says.
“That is a beautifully empty answer.”
“It was an easy observation.”
“Are you always this committed to giving nothing away?”
He glances at me. “Are you always this committed to collecting?”
“I have a notebook. It would be wasteful not to use it.”
“You aren’t using it now,” Damien says.
“I’m remembering.”
He looks at me again, and the corner of his mouth lifts.
“Of course you are.”
By the time we reach the canal, the morning has turned warm enough that the shade feels earned. The water lies green and still beneath the trees, broken only by the occasional ripple from a passing boat. A small café sits near the edge, its chairs arranged carelessly enough to seem sincere. The tables are mismatched. The awning is faded. No one has bothered to make the place look like a discovery, which is usually how I know I might have found one.
He chooses a table near the canal without asking. I sit across from him because pretending to deliberate would make the moment too obvious. A server appears almost immediately. He is young, thin, and still tying his apron as he reaches us.
“Bonjour,” the server says.
“Bonjour,” Damien says. “Deux cafés. De l’eau. And whatever pastry is still warm.”
I look at him.
The server nods and disappears.
“You ordered for me,” I say.
Damien sets my bag beside my chair. “I did.”
“That is bold.”
“You can object when the pastry arrives.”
“What if I wanted tea?”
