The muddy streets of France are at my feet. My pace quickens as I feel a sense of urgency overcome me. It's like the hands of God pushing me forward. I turn the corner as quickly as I can. I face the ground and the urgency leaves me. I am panting now. I turn and run across the street. The sounds of the subway greet me. I step up to the counter to pay my subway card off and renew it.
"77.41£ is your 8 week dues, Miss Lestrange." Philippe, the cashier, informed me.
"Merci, Philippe." I handed him my subway and credit card. He hands it back and lets me through to the platform.
The bag on my back weighs me down. I take my seat in order to wait for my subway. I check my watch only to see that I wave forty-five more minutes to wait. I turn and lie across the bench and stare at the sky through the large, clear ceiling. Footsteps approach my bench. I arch my neck to see the cause of the noise. A tall man, a few years my senior, is standing with his sports coat in hand. I casually sit up like a lady and pull my bag closer to me. He turns his head to me and nods. I reciprocate the gesture.
"Do you mind if I sit?" He asks.
"Non, monsieur, s'il vous plaît ne." I put my bag on the ground.
"Thank you, sweetheart." He sat. "Where are you off to on this fine morning?"
"La Boulangerie où je travaille." The man looked at me, puzzled.
"I am truly sorry, I don't speak enough French."
"I said I am going to the bakery where I work." He nodded. "Do you work in the city too?"
"Yes, I work for EnviroEurope Energy. I'm the corporate leader in the French division." We sat in silence until the subway stopped in front of us.
"It was nice to speak with you today. Have a nice week, monsieur." I grabbed my bag and mounted the subway. I sat down in my regular seat and waited for departure into Paris. I pulled my IPod out to listen to my music.
Qu'on voit danser le long des golfes clairs
À des reflets d'argent
Charles Trenet's La Mer is my favorite song and it's purely beautiful. His soft tone lures me to close my eyes.
Des reflets changeants
Sous la pluie
Twenty minutes have passed as I listen to the complete album. The subway comes to a halt in the station. I reach down for my bag. The doors open, meaning another day of work.