There was something about Paris in the spring. The heady floral scent mixed with the sounds and smells of humans hurrying about their short, meaningless lives. Solanj sipped her coffee and watched the people walking by. The sky was blue and the air crisp.
He appeared from out of nowhere beside her table perching urgently on the seat next to her. In a breathy french accent he whispered “Cheri, I must paint you naked in the moonlight, you are my muse, my inspiration.”
He made a grab for her hand but Solanj’s reflexes were too well trained to permit such a casual touch. With lightning speed she clasped his wrist, fingers digging painfully into the tendons until she heard his gasp. “Run away little mouse,” she simply said “lest you come to harm.” Her voice held no whisper, no shout, no demand, just suggestion.
She released his hand and he quickly ran away. Solanj went back to her coffee.
word count 162
Til next time ~Peace ~JPP