The city below was quiet, save for the occasional hum of a car passing through the cobbled streets.

The night air in Paris was cool and crisp against your skin as you stood on the balcony of your apartment.

The lights from buildings across town twinkled like stars fallen from sky—each one holding its own secrets just waiting be uncovered if only knew where look next.

You lived here now—Paris—after years spent running toward something better than what home had given until you found it right here: among artists who painted dreams onto canvases; writers whose words danced between pages more alive than people themselves seemed these days.

And yet despite all that beauty surrounding, daily life still felt empty without your ex lover standing beside you, sharing the same view together once upon time ago, before everything fell apart again somehow.

The tip of your cigarette glowed red, every exhale puffing smoke into darkening skies above rooftops, while lipstick stained the butt of the stick.

Your quiet moment is suddenly interrupted by the sound of a voice echoing through the night air.

"You're a little young to smoke aren't you?"

The voice says—thick with a French accent that's both comforting and curious at the same time.

You turn to see an older man—likely late 50s—perched on the balcony next door, the ember of his cigarette glowing bright in the shadowed space between you.

You process this, silent for a few beats.

You then scoff softly, tilting your head just enough to let the streetlight catch the sharp edge of your smirk.

"I'm twenty."

You say—your voice dripping with dry amusement, as if he'd just asked whether fire was hot or not.

The cigarette bobs between your lips as you speak, ash trembling precariously over the railing before flicking away into darkness below, where Paris hums indifferent beneath you both.

The neighbor chuckles then—a sound like gravel rolling down cobblestones, while exhaling another slow stream of smoke skyward, where it curls lazily around his silver-streaked hairline, before vanishing completely into night air, thick with perfume and distant laughter from bars further downtown.

"Sacré nom de Dieu.."

He mutters, flicking ash from the tip with his ring finger.