Outside it was pouring rain. I was sitting on the edge of my bed, staring at the cold window, while the raindrops were falling down the almost frozen glass. My thoughts were running around in my head and my heart was on fire. I felt a rush going through my veins. A strange overwhelming feeling veiled me and I felt as powerless as ever. It was almost as if someone else had taken control over my body. I jumped up. I rushed to the cabinet in my room and took down the suitcase. The dusty, old, forgotten suitcase. I did not know why, but I started packing everything I could. Did I know where I was going? No. But there was one thing that I certainly knew: I couldn’t spend another moment in that apartment, in that town. I called a taxi and off to the airport I was.

On the way, a war was happening inside of me. Should I stay or should I go? The certainty had vanished. Can I really do this; start over and erase my past, every trace of my life up until now?

Lost in my own interior conflict, I did not realize we had arrived. I got off and I stopped. Looking around I saw every movie cliché story. Right next to me, we had the boyfriend departing, leaving his girlfriend behind. A little more to the left, a happy family was going on holiday. To the right, the grandparents were going back home after the holiday visit. I wanted to go in, but a couple of newlyweds stopped me and asked for a picture. They were going on their honeymoon. I had no one to pull me back or keep me here. Unlike all this people, I had a chance to escape.

Still unsure of what I should do, I kept on walking. I kept walking until I reached the ticket counter and on the spur of the moment I bought a ticket for the first flight available. Destination: Paris. The irony of fate had done it again. A lost and lonely, wandering soul, drifting away from everything it knew; going to the city of love.

Before rushing to the gate, I had one last attempt in staying. I called my mom, but no one answered. What did I expect… It was three in the morning no one could have answered, but deep down all I wanted was for someone to pick up and tell me I shouldn’t run away; that I should come home and put an end to all this nonsense. That there was someone to hold me. Although I had been through this a million times before, I was still surprised and disappointed. Being on my own once again in the cold, merciless world. I guess I never was “not alone” so why does this hurt all of a sudden? I pulled my tears back, left a message and walked through the gate. I awaited for the weight on my shoulders to fade away, but it never did.

                     When I arrived, I had nowhere to go and the lack of sleep compelled me to walk the

stoned roads, like a ghost without a purpose. A spirit, doomed for eternity to see the suffering of the world, but not able to do anything about it. From time to time, some restless souls would pass me by, but besides them, only the moon was my companion. Far away, some lights were flickering in a café at the end of a dark alley. As the wind was howling louder and louder and the thunders that seemed so far away, appeared to be now closer and closer, I decided to get out of the ruthless storm that was approaching and find shelter in the café of the lost souls. That is what I called it. Inside, there were only three people, at the bar: a couple and the bartender. I considered myself an outsider, so I stood as far away from them as possible, but the room was so small that I could hear them. They were whispering to each other. The man’s voice breaking occasionally, while on the woman’s rosy cheeks, tears were rolling down uncontrollably. They were so tender, constantly caressing each other, but for some reason, their eyes were as cold as ice. It went on like this for some time. It seemed that the end of a love story was displaying itself in front of my eyes. They stopped talking and in that moment you could even hear the silence, the stillness. For just a second it seemed that time froze, just so that the two lovebirds would have more time to say goodbye. The two of them stood up at the same time, with their arms around each other. I couldn’t make out anything they were saying; but just before he left he gave her a kiss. I knew I was staring, but I could not look away; it was more beautiful than any picture I have ever seen, it captured the essence of love itself, a reenactment of “The Kiss”. For a second time, the concept of temporality, was just another made-up story, but then the clock started ticking again. He put his coat on, his hat and walked out of the café without looking back. He kept on lingering by the door. With only one more glimpse at her, he just disappeared into the darkness of the night. I turned to her and she was just staring at the door, waiting for him to come back. He never did. The exhibit of the “work of art” was now over and it was time to go. She stormed out of the room with her purse on one hand and a pink envelope in the other. As the silence continued to rule the room, the bartender barely dared to speak: “ Nous fermons dans cinq minutes” is all he said. I was ready to leave, when the door was slammed open by the wind, and a pink envelope flew in. Just as fast as it opened, the door shut. I picked up the dirty and crumpled piece of paper. It was unopened and on the back it said “I promise I will always come back, no matter what”. I put it there, on the table and left. Behind me I heard the door opening and closing once again. The bartender threw the envelope outside. It was twisting and turning, being blown away in every direction, flying high above the buildings, looking for the woman, to let her know that her lover would come back. I guess it didn’t matter anymore whether he would or not.

Just like that I was back on the streets, once again looking for a purpose; with another story to tell. The story of two broken hearts, that might never find each other again; was flying around in my mind as freely as the love letter in the wind. I thought the weight on my shoulders grew heavier as another two destinies were laying on them, but it surely was a good distraction. And as the raw sun rays were peaking from behind the Eiffel tower, chasing away the moon and her dominance, The City of Love put on another play, breaking apart yet another love story. The man in the role of the sun and the woman in the role of the moon; who may never be together again. The tale will forever live on the streets of Paris, every night, so that the sacrifices being made in the name of love, will never be forgotten.