Fuir

I went to Paris to forget.

What better way to slough off an old life than to jettison it from a plane crossing a great blue divide? That was the idea anyway.

He was unexpected. Lingering glances turned into not-so-by-chance meetings. Afternoon tourist delights turned into evenings spent under glittering stars outside the city. Selfies with the Eiffel Tower turned into artistically blurry black and white shots of his skin and mine against the backdrop of rumpled sheets.

Sweet nothings in my ear weren't nothing after all. I was guarded against effusive declarations - they usually come with the first bloom of a relationship, but then they fade away. There's much to be said about a man who isn't careless with tossing around words and feelings.

I didn't want to leave, but the idea of going back to my "real life" loomed over me. That's such a silly phrase...life can be whatever you make of it. And so I stayed. My family worried that I'd lost my mind and maybe they were right.

But I'd rather be lost in possibility than found in misery.