I eat the last of the crême brûlée and sip the last of the wine. I watch the sun sink beneath the roof of the restaurant.
When I stand and finally stretch my limbs, evening has fully descended.
The streets of Paris are typically well lit, but like most old European cities, some sections still hearken to days gone by—brick buildings, cobblestoned streets, streetlamps that have stood for decades.
God, I love Paris. If I could marry Paris, we’d elope.
The tourist guides all say that Paris is safe for a single woman. Even the Eiffel Tower’s structure has been outfitted with hundreds of yellowish spotlights that not only highlight thelandmark, but also provide visibility and safety for nighttime visitors. Here in France, we have trains and buses and rental cars at the ready, and policemen aren’t far away if we need them.
I’m safe, I tell myself as I step outside the restaurant and into the cooler evening air. Across the street, a rowdy crowd of young adults chats and laughs, one gesturing wildly as if he’s telling a story. A pang hits me in the chest.
Heh. I must be hormonal. I’m not usually this emotional all over the place like this. What’s going on with me?
Am I… lonely?
Me, world traveler and student—correction, wealthy world traveler and grad student—who lives in the swankiest apartment and eats the best food and wears truly fabulous clothes… is lacking in something?
Maybe rumors float through school about my affiliation with the Gerards. Maybe Parisians are just a close-knit sort of people that don’t easily take on new friendships. Or maybe I just haven’t given it enough time, but I’m… well, sort of friendless here.
I shove my hands in my pockets and decide to walk instead of taking a cab. It’s a lovely night, and there are lots of people out here… and my overprotective sister and brother-in-law are on a flight to Italy and can’t stop me.
The sound of my footsteps on the hard sidewalk click clacks down the streets as I leave behind the noise of the city and walk toward our little apartment. One of the reasons we got such a deal on this place was that it’s a good walk from our apartment to the other parts of the city where we find restaurants and shopping venues.
I pull out my phone on instinct and check the texts.
Nicolette:
Hey. Be safe, please. I know you’re not a kid but you’re my sister and the only one I’ve got!!
Cue a whole string of heart emojis.
Me:
I promise, I will not drink more than ten drinks at a time, will only smoke high-end pot, and have casual sex ONLY every other day, m’kay?
I can almost hear her sighing on the other end of the phone.
Nicolette:
Alright, sounds good. Love you, you big goof.
I smile and text her back.
Me:
Love you, too
I continue to walk, my head down, when a surprising brisk gust of air makes me shiver. I pull my jacket tighter around me and come to a sudden stop.
Wait.
There’s got to be some kind of a carnival or something happening this weekend, because the street looks different.
This is… unusual. Stalls are set up in various places, changing the appearance of landmarks. I’m all turned around. I look about me, trying to locate something I recognize, when I realize with a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach…
I don’t know where I am.
My heart gives a little thump when I try to get a good idea of my location. I have to admit. This might’ve been a good time for me to… alright, fine, have a guard. Someone I could at least wave to and ask for a little directional help?
