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A Kiss in Paris
Category: Romance
It was the kind of night when secrets refused to stay buried.
The sword was heavier than she expected, but she did not lower it.
The letter was still on the table, unopened, as it had been for three days.
She had not expected to see him again, not after all these years.
The train pulled out of the station with a long, mournful whistle.
She smiled, but it did not reach her eyes.
A cold wind swept across the plain, carrying with it the scent of distant rain.
The map was old, its edges frayed, but the path it showed was unmistakable.
The end.