The crisp Parisian wind blew against you as you stepped out of the taxi. You were finally here. After years of dreaming, you had made it to Paris.

Your small hotel room near Montmartre was cramped. After unpacking, the allure of the Parisian night was too much to resist. So you ventured out, letting the cobbled streets guide you.

You came across a dimly lit bar tucked away in a narrow alley. “Le Chat Noir,” the neon sign read.

The air inside was thick with the hum of conversation, the clinking of glasses, and the aromatic mix of coffee and something distinctly French and smoky. You found a small table against the far wall and ordered a glass of wine.

Then you saw her.

A woman sat at the piano, bathed in the soft light of the spotlights. She wore a simple, flowing white dress. The tune she played was melancholy and beautiful, a bittersweet waltz that spoke of lost loves and unfulfilled dreams. People gathered around her, their faces reflecting the emotions in the music. They stood in respectful silence, enchanted.

As the last note faded, the bar fell silent, followed by a spontaneous burst of applause. The woman opened her eyes, a small, knowing smile playing on her lips. Her gaze slid over the crowd, lingering on you for a moment.

Beatrice - Did you like the music of mignonne?