|Image source: Ammar Abd Rabbo|
The plane landed in Paris, and after a long flight, Sylvie was tired and longed for a hot bath. Awed by the ornate fixtures, she checked into her five-star hotel.
"Bonjour Madame, comment allez-vous?"
"Je vais bien, merci. Et vous?"
"Sera Mademoiselle besoin d'une clé ou deux?"
"Une, S'il vous plaît. Sylvie followed the bellman to her room. "Merci monsieur." She tipped him and closed the door. The years of French lessons she had taken in preparation for this had paid off.
After drawing a hot bath, she poured a glass of the chilled champagne that had been waiting for her. She slipped into the tub, luxuriating in the steaming lavender scented water. As she soaked she thought about what brought her to Paris.
She was participating in Fashion Week, and her boyfriend would be arriving tomorrow, hence the champagne she was enjoying. This was the opportunity of a lifetime. At the last minute Monique was struck with appendicitis, and required emergency surgery. Although models are usually very competitive, Sylvie was genuinely sorry for her friend.
After two years of serving as backup, she finally got her chance. She would impress them with her grace and poise. She would pause at the end of the runway, turn and throw a dazzling smile at her boyfriend, her very rich boyfriend, Francois.
Afterward they would stroll along the Avenue des Champs-Élysées...one of the most romantic places in Paris. They would stop beneath the lamp post, the soft glow adding to the ambiance. He turned, his dark eyes searching her face. "Sylvie, voulez-vous..."
Her cell phone was ringing, drawing her away from her thoughts.
"Sylvia, where are you? Wait, did you just say 'bonjour'? Did you forget our bridge game? Howard is already here."
Sylvia yawned and shook her head. "I'm sorry Jan, I must have fallen asleep on the couch. I just had the oddest dream. It was so real. "