It happened in Paris.
It had taken me months to convince her to have a day or so
apart. She was so sure that I wanted to go to Moulin Rouge or something. I kept
pointing out how she hated art galleries, which is what I wanted to do. Finally
convinced her.
I had a wonderful day, until I went to meet back up with her
at the café we picked.
Even without the stack of plates, and the scraps of
chocolate and pastry, I could recognize a binge, and thus an angry comedown
would follow soon.
I was tired.
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