midnight in Paris with Juliette

When the sky goes pink in Paris, France, do you think of the girl who used to dance when you’d frame her moving within your hands, saying This I won’t forget?

comings and goings of Paris. A lady walked past the café window. dressed much like her pompous poodle in a white faux fur coat with matching earmuffs and gloves. She looked as if to be enjoying her evening walk, a small smile perched on her lips slightly hidden beneath the mass of red stained lipstick. Behind her a young man in a think grey sweater hurried by, shivering in the cool evening air. A phone was pressed tightly against his car and I could see his lips moving fast and faster as he passed the woman. The woman with the poodle hadn’t seemed to have noticed the man. her gaze fixed on the sinking sun in the horizon. I had been taking tiny sips of my coffee, savouring the warmth as it filled my body. I tapped my fingers on the edges of the cup, my pink manicured