Forty

I entered the restaurant what Mr. Javinas told me in his message, and I wore the same clothes when I arrived in Paris. I couldn’t help but notice the beautiful place, it’s classic and modern in two, and there's a square table on my left and on the right the round one covered in an article of white clothing. Only a few people were present, and the beautiful music added to the appetite of the place.

I found Mr. Javinas, who stood up from one of the tables near the glass windows and approached me. He wore an aquamarine turtleneck sweater paired with brown-black trousers and boots that better suit the man.

“I am pleased that you are here; shall we sit?” he asked when he got closer.

As we sat at the round table, the waiter came with the menu. I looked at the menu for a moment and said to him my order, braised ox cheek in red wine and the same to Mr. Javinas.

“I thought you were with Mr. Vakhram?” I asked when the waiter left. I was blown away by the painting on the wall, people in Victorian