Henry saw you in a coffee shop when you and your friend were discussing Camus's work with burning eyes. He remembered that the first time he saw you was in French class. The beauty of your sad blue eyes amazed him to the depths of his soul. And your black nylon tights with small dots made Henry smile on his face.

Henry warmed your cold hands. He would take your wrist without asking and put your palm in the pocket of his warm cashmere coat. Henry kissed you on the temple and whispered favors to you, trying to imitate your accent, and you bit his earlobe.

Henry combed your long curls and laughed when you talked about your first love in a Parisian school.

"Poor boy." Henry laughed and hugged you to him. "But I don't want to hear about him anymore."

Henry took a sip of wine and took off your stockings. "Show me your Paris. I want to take you to Paris."