Ever Since New York [h.s au]

17

My French was rusty, I hadn't used it in years. I wasn't even fluent, but I figured spending time in the heart of France would kickstart my memory. I also signed up for French lessons, it would give me something to do, and provide me with the academic validation that I so desperately required.

Everything I brought with me to Paris was in two duffle bags. One was full of clothes, and the other full of toiletries and books. I had my backpack which held all of my electronics, notebook, and personal things. I planned to buy anything of importance while I was in Paris, it made more sense to buy in Europe and bring it back to the US, rather than buy in the US lug everything both ways.

The apartment I rented was in the perfect location. I was on the top floor, there was a minuscule balcony. If I stood extra tall and leaned too far over the railing I could see the Eiffel Tower, but it was costing me a pretty penny.

I was exhausted after days of traveling and taking five flights of stairs, but that wasn't going to stop me from exploring my new renovated and furnished apartment. I dropped my bags at the front door, and smiled when I saw that it looked just like the photos online.

The walls were white, with marvelous crown molding. I closed the door behind me then took a step further, the chevron wood floors created with every movement of my foot. The foyer was small, there was a gold framed mirror next to a coat rack and hooks on the walls. An antique foyer table sat beneath the mirror, with a beautiful green bowl on top of it.

I tossed my purse, keys, and notebook on the table, then moved into the next room. Which was a skinny hallway with four arched doorways. The first two didn't have doors, the one on the left led to the kitchen. It was long but tight, with a window that shined natural light all over the white cabinets and butcher block countertops. There was a small dining table that couldn't fit any more than three people unless you really squeezed. The fridge was mini, and there was no microwave - only a stove and oven. I took it as a sign that I needed to cook healthy food for myself.

I found my bedroom. The three major pieces in the room made it feel quite small. A queen sized bed, a small desk that stood against the window. It was the perfect place for me to finish my novel. And the wardrobe which would be tight, but I'd survived worse at UCLA. I nearly screamed when I saw the skyline window above the bed. The next room I found was the bathroom, dark green penny tile covered every inch of it. The mirror was adequate, and I would be able to stand in the shower. Thankfully, the toilet wasn't one that forced you to watch yourself pee in the mirror.

The last room was small, but cozy living room was next to the kitchen. There was one couch, and chair. The coffee table had some random decorations, and there was no tv. It was perfect. Except for the gorgeous black piano. I couldn't stand to look at it, but it sat at the edge of the living room, next to the bar cart. I found a sheet in the linen closet and threw it over the beautiful ivory keys.

I took a deep breath, reminded myself I was in Paris for the whole summer, and that I'd managed to get an apartment all to myself. Then I started unpacking the few items I packed. Almost immediately after unpacking, I fell asleep. When I woke up, it was morning. I'd planned my flight to arrive in the evening in the hopes of preventing jet lag. It worked as well as one would think.

There was a market down the street from the apartment, I picked up anything that I thought would be beneficial to stalk up in my kitchen. Especially while I was hermitting and writing. Fruits, breads, meat, and I even grabbed cheese to test the no lactose intolerance in Europe thing.

With my bag of groceries in hand, I headed home. The most important thing for me to do was to finish my novel. I was giving myself one week to write the last two chapters of the second draft. Then all I had to do was edit and edit some more.