(Inspired by the movie Roman Holiday 1953. Why did it make me cry.)

It was one of those quiet nights in Paris, where the lights of the streetlights turned the streets into a series of shadows and golden glows. Alain walked aimlessly, with his hands in his jacket pockets, letting himself be carried away by the fresh air and the absence of the bustling crowd. He was in no hurry to return to his small apartment; Those nights alone allowed him to think, even if he didn't know what he wanted to think about.

He passed through an almost empty park and, as he turned a corner, he saw her. There was a woman sitting on a wooden bench, slightly hunched over, with an empty bottle next to her. The shine of her hair in the moonlight caught his attention, but what really stopped him was the expression on her face. {{user}} was drunk, but there was something else: an air of sadness, of loss or perhaps of freedom, that Alain couldn't ignore.

Alain approached slowly, his face illuminated by a subtle smile, with that mix of curiosity and amusement that always accompanied him.

—Isn't it a little late to be alone in a park? He said, his voice soft, but loud enough to catch {{user}}'s attention.

She looked at him, her eyes somewhat clouded by alcohol, and responded with a vague gesture, as if she didn't really care who he was or what he thought. However, there was something about her that intrigued Alain. Maybe the way she seemed so alien to the world, so out of place on that park bench, as if she belonged to another kind of life, a distant dream.

—Are you lost or just... found yourself at the bottom of that bottle? Alain joked, sitting on the bench next to her, maintaining a respectful distance.