I don’t know if it’s because it was a long weekend or what, but man, that Paris train station is insane. Thank god we had a young Gina Gershon lookalike to guide us through it (seriously, spitting image, accent and everything).

Returning to Paris after almost thirty years is weird. Feels like a totally different life; all I really remember is pastries, Jim Morrison’s grave and the crushing exhaustion of actually taking the stairs at the Eiffel Tower.

Not this time. Elevator all the way.

Target: 1300 words
Written: 417 words, novel: Father Lightning

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