Kathy, I'm lost

It's the first day of our last week in Paris, at least until sometime in August. My body aches as if I had been working this entire spring and I keep wondering what the ocean will smell like when we get there.

My first job was selling 100 flavors of ice cream in Silver Like, it was either that or asking mother to pay for my therapist. Chloe brought me sparkling white wine in brown paper bags, we were 14 and drank behind the counter until the manager found out and fired us both. Therapy went downhill from there.

The restless part of me looks forward to getting away from the city and the noise, but I know it's unlikely to last. Maybe we'll see Antibes this time, like with so many places I haven't been back there after that summer with my father. It's not the pain that scares me, my only fear in life is to forget what they felt like, those rosy fairy tale moments we shared.