Montfermeil, France… sounds a little exciting, I guess

Montfermeil, France… sounds a little exciting, I guess. My parents, my older sisters, Adrielle and Bethany, and I are staying at a small, dumpy, inn there. The owners are these two cute little old people that don’t speak very good English, but lucky for all of us, my dad speaks perfect French.

The rooms are nice. There’s a wooden cross in every room except the bathroom, and the beds are cute and simple with black, iron frames, a small mattress, and a couple cream colored blankets. It doesn’t get very cold during the Summer in Montfermeil.

The owners have a son, Marius, who arrived the day after we did. He’s in his late twenties, speaks English pretty well, and totally seems like Adrielle’s type: a dreamer, a poet, a romantic. He was me and my sisters about his last friend, Barbette.

“She was like a beautiful flower.” He said. She had blue eyes like pebbles in the ocean. And her hair was so it was almost white, and she had these lips that were like two red rose petals. Though she was never happy.”

“You mean she didn’t love you back?” Asked Adrielle.

“No, she did, a little too much.” Sighed Marius, “The poor would get so jealous that if I bought bread from another woman, she’d go for days without saying to words to me.”

“That’s flipping crazy, man!” Said Bethany, picking at her blue nail polish.

“Poor Arena…” Marius looked down at his shoes. “She died here, you know?”

“What?” My sisters and I shouted at the same time.

“Yeah, in the bathroom. She poisoned herself in there.”

“Why? Didn’t your parents like her?” I asked.

“Of course they did, but she didn’t like how I was closer with my mother than I was with her.” Explained Marius.