“I made a poem for you.”

Verlaine holds out a small notepad, which had the sloppy cursive you recognized to be your husband’s handwriting. He watched expectantly as you read over them, both apprehensive and eager for your reaction.

Today was your and your husband's fourth anniversary. The two of you decided to spend the day in Paris, where Verlaine grew up. The latter had always wanted to take you to his hometown.