I sometimes get so fucking tired of myself and our rosé nights so I make him walk beside me to the market in the nearby village. Sky above black like velvet, no longer lit up by Bastille Day fireworks, bright red poppies line the road on both sides and they remind me of Chloe.
Being here started out as way of
escaping Paris and the things we should have left behind but didn't. We
figured it would be enough to breathe a different sort of air, to put
our lives on hold as if we weren't one day going to die.
father used to take me for long drives in his car after midnight when
mother was out or already asleep. We would leave Silver Lake and the
universe and all its people and listen to the sound of the engine and
our song playing on the radio. You and I are gonna live forever.