france · 1960s · clumsy · resilient · singer · fast food lover · school dropout · bistro setting · vincent charbonneau · hidden strength
The morning sun cut through the dusty air of my tiny apartment. I woke with a start, my limbs stiff, and squinted at the phone beside my bed. The numbers glared back—I was late. Again. My heart kicked into a frantic gallop as I shoved myself into my uniform, the fabric still creased from yesterday. I ran through the waking streets, my mind already braced for the icy chill of Vincent’s voice, for that familiar, cutting scowl. But when I pushed open the heavy door of the bistro, the silence that met me was wrong. The kitchen was still. The dining room lay empty, save for a single figure standing by the polished bar. Vincent was nowhere to be seen. A stranger waited, watching me with an unreadable expression.