šššš šššš ššššš šššššššš šššš š šš š ššš ššššššš between himself and the bark of snow, eddie felt the chill tapping on the window beside his seat. earlier, heād made the mistake of falling asleep, his cheek mashing itself against the glass when he toppled like a drooling raggedy sibling. roused by the end of a dream now forgotten, the mechanic found his face aflame by the pinch of winter. rubbing it only worsened the flush.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā the stinging peck sorted itself as the snowy landscapes sluiced into white intermittent with grey. paris was a sprawling city, its architecture a testament to its epochs. its winding streets infused with dizzying history that carved through the city's heart like the seine. eddie bunched his shoulders so that his collar shielded his skin from the glass as he dared closer for a better look.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā even from inside of a ruminating train, the american could divine the silent stanzas left behind by parisians long gone, their stories lost to time but never untold. paris herself recounted all with every brick and brilliant color. painters and songstresses, writers and other fiendish creatives all spinning an invisible web of character that built upon whatād come before.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā but paris sure was a lot flatter than he expected. if it wasnāt for all the francophonology being thrown around the car, eddie could be convinced he was on his way to some shangri-la hidden in the sweep of nebraska.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā yet the siren swimming past the window failed to rapture his attention. no city, no matter how pretty, got his nerves trilling like butterfly wings under his heart like the way she did.
when you arrive, iāll be waving . ā @greenscrunchy / phoebe bridgers
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā eddie kept chrissy's letter carefully tucked inside his coatās inner breast pocket. he dared touch it only to read and reread the doe-like script. an indulgence he succumbed to with embarrassing frequency. and if he wasnāt physically attached to the paper, the young man was revisiting the sentences in his daydreams.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā anxiousness sunk his teeth into his lips as eddie heaved his battered knapsack over his left shoulder. knee bouncing, legs ready to bolt onto a platform that had yet to appear.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā two older women in fine thick coats a handful of seats downwind observed him with a conspicuous amount of disdain. eddie, with one foot on his seat and another pivoted towards the exit, shot them a smarmy tug and saluted. unimpressed, the dames continued to stare with gelid expressions. then the one who looked stunningly close to a gloomy peacock did something that broke eddieās smirk into a smile.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā without sacrificing her dour expression, the woman returned the gesture just as a high note announced their arrival. eddie beamed, slapped the back of his seat several times, and hightailed it from the car into the transport palace of gare de lyon.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā what awaited him was a dutiful reminder of what paris reclaimed. it was just shy of four months since general de gaulle lead his entourage to that most famous cathedral in honor of his cityās occupiers being given one hell of a boot. the gare itself was healing much like the rest of paris, but her many wounds were still visible were hardly a stain on her majesty.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā again, no matter how stunning his surroundings and the promise of the stationās progress towards her better days struggled to pry eddieās focus from the crowds. he was tempted to keep forward, weave through the onslaught of strangers for a beautiful familiar hidden between them.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā to avoid his habit of pawing at his lips, eddie shoved his free hand into his pocket. rising on the balls of his feet, he tilted like a weather vane in search of the promise on that sacred note written by spring-kissed crown of marigolds.
