JPHS In Paris (Henry James in Paris)

The young gentleman sat outside the esteemed cafe, Au Rocher De Cancale. For two stagnant hours he sat alone, surrounded by strangers and a constant stream of conscious tones emanating from the geometrically patterned streets.

With the addition of loud whispers of his neighboring companions, intricate stories began to form. 

The young fellow, 3 paces back and one to the right spoke of uncommon regions in Paris with, loosely translated of course, bread as fresh as ever. His adventures seemed to revolve around the coast town of Fecamp and long trail that goes between Fecamp and Etretat. 

Unfortunately it appears that on this mans previous adventure between these two towns, his short term companion of 4 hours, a young and slender teen abruptly named Eaky by her unsuspecting parents, was lost due to inclement weather and the constsnt gusts of wind which ever so often throw the unprepared traveler over the cliffs and into the English Channel. 

Matthieu as we will call our young   outside of the cafe, decided that at this moment of his unfortunate neighbors story, that he should refocus his acute attention back onto his own thoughts. The dim afternoon light had turned into a black cavern illuminated by the heat lamps that line even the most unadorned cafes. 

His day had been uneventful to say the least and after wandering the streets of Paris with heels oozing from his newly purchased shoes, keep in mind that this was his first shoe purchase in the last 5 years, he decided to wander down Rue Montorguiel until he happened upon the cafe that he currently resides at. 

This was a common scenario for his weekends in Paris, but as each week continued, he found his attention drifting more and more to his surrounding neighbors, finding comfort in their diverse stories which allowed his mind to imagine his life as something different. 

Eventually, Mathieu believed that his life would not longer exist as solely his own, but a collection of other lives that he integrated into his memory. 

The waiter came to table as he finished his last drop of red wine, only leaving a hint of stain on the bottom of the glass. He asked for the check and payed with no hint of sadness for his fastly approaching departure of his adopted home. 

He stood up, stretched his back, sighed with the increased tension on his heels and continued his slow and misinformed journey through the streets. At some point he must head home, but he felt that his feet would guide him to where he was meant to go. He accepted any excuse to keep his Sunday evenings from ending, allowing the postponement of his work week to continue.