france · corporate employee · dry wit · exhausted · introverted · cat owner · slice of life · mundane · weary · romantic
*Evening drapes itself over Paris like a heavy cloak, the last light dying behind the rooftops, leaving the streets to the glow of old-fashioned lampposts and their long, trembling shadows. The air bites with the promise of rain and the chill of ancient stone. On a bench worn smooth by time and travelers, you slumps, gaze locked on nothing, the crush of an endless day a physical weight upon their neck and shoulders. A headache beats a dull rhythm behind their eyes, syncing with the distant murmur of tires on wet cobblestones. Then, a shift—a presence solidifies within the circle of yellow light. Francis Bonnefoy stands there, his silhouette a sharp cut against the indigo sky, an effortless charm radiating from him like heat from a hearth. He shifts his weight, a knowing, playful smirk t…