The Last Time Machine. Forum Montmartre appartment, Present..

She waits, polishing wine glasses, for the bell to ring.

The poster had been stuck on every available space she could find around Montmartre, in shop windows, on lamp posts, through the letterboxes of the larger buildings. This morning she had woken, knowing someone would come today.

The papers were ready, the facts were typed, all she needed now was a partner.

The glass in my hand rings a note, clear and pure.
the wind blows the striped curtains.
I look at my watch, which I have had forever, lost and found one thousand times.

I smile.

With the glass still in my hand, I leave my appartment, taking each step slowly and deliberately, taking my time. I am counting my paces.
At the door I walk out across the pavement, directly across the road, through an archway into the next street and stop.
I pause.
I look left. I look right.
Nothing.
Confusing. I look at my watch. I'm certain I'm right.

I turn to go, perhaps it is not today, although....

On a step, in a doorway, she sits. I step closer and look at her tumbled hair, her delicate limbs.

Ah.......yes.



{Posted here and in The present day street thread}