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Summary
It had been months, and Richard still wasn’t able to forget that night, its memory hunting him with nostalgia and longing. Between his fingers, he was gently playing with a small, folded piece of paper. He noticed that it already turned gray from the many times he had opened it to read what was written inside, small tears opening wide on the folds. He recognized the unmistakably round marks of a few teardrops, that luckily didn’t ruin the content or the paper. He sighed again, welcoming the memories back, hoping that after having recalled them they would finally leave him alone.
Series
- Part 1 of Frühling In Paris