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A Kiss in Paris
Category: Romance
The map was old, its edges frayed, but the path it showed was unmistakable.
A knock at the door changed everything.
It was the kind of night when secrets refused to stay buried.
The fire had burned down to embers, but neither of them moved to stoke it.
Some doors, once opened, can never be closed again.
The letter was still on the table, unopened, as it had been for three days.
The morning light filtered through the curtains, painting the room in soft gold.
The train pulled out of the station with a long, mournful whistle.
The end.