~。LA CONVERSATION DES ENFANTS ~。
The young man sat idly behind his book, a cup of coffee sitting in front of him. His long hair was back in a bun with a few strands framing his face. He was so engrossed in the novel that he didn't notice the young girl with the red lips approaching him.
"Bonjour," she said and he looked up from the book, green eyes observing her brown ones.
"Hello, Ange," he greeted, finally closing the book and placing it down on the table.
"I see you're doing really well, Harry," she commented, looking at the pile of books—all the same—mounted on the booth next to him. He had just finished signing them all and was on to the last one before calling it a day's work.
"Yeah. Your dad should be proud, hopefully."
The beautiful girl nodded, curls bouncing and cascading down her shoulders. "He should be because I read it, and it made me feel like I was there when they met."
Harry solemnly nodded. "Yes. They must have really been in love."
"Now they'll both be together in heaven again."
Harry let out a chuckle. "One died from lung cancer, I don't think heaven would want him."
Ange shrugged and looked down at her hands. "I don't care where he went; I don't care where they both went, to be honest because together, they can make hell feel like paradise. I know that they will meet again."
Harry observed the girl for a moment before leaning across the table. "You believe that love is timeless, don't you?"
Ange looked back at him, undisturbed. "Yes, I do and that it has ways of bringing people together."
Harry couldn't deny the last claim. It was after because of their fathers' dalliance that they met. Before that they had both been children born out of frustration and a one night stand. And so he leaned back and took another sip of his coffee. "Then I believe you, Ange. I really do believe you."
LA FIN.
