Walking along the intricate streets of Paris on a spontaneous, solo, weekend trip makes your adrenaline pump. You have never felt so free and scared and joyous at the same time.
You can’t help but hope that you will run into someone at a Meet-Cute straight out of a movie script, your own Nadja, to give the rest of your time here a bit of romance.
Paris is the city of love, after all.
But no, you’re happy being alone.
Being able to do all the weird things nobody else would want to do.
No one to complain when you want to take a second - or third - or fourth - or fifth - tour around the cathedral.
Or wait while you take half an hour to pick out the perfect shotglass for your mother’s collection.
You’re so elated to be here.
You’re not thinking about what will happen when you go back to your new, temporary home, or in a couple months, back to your family and friends and school.
You have no idea that you’ll strike up a conversation with the weird boy who lives across the hall.
That you will be doing all sorts of things with this boy.
That you will meet his family and go on vacation with them.
That you will spend the Fourth of July with him in Miami. On a boat soaking up the sun you haven’t seen in months here in Europe.
You have no idea that you’ll find something to love more than this city you are in right now.
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