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.