Paris The Memoir Novels & Stories

I could still remember how that conversation turned out. I always remember my conversations with Paris lately. She surprises me and shocks me at the same time. I lost one year of my memories. I don’t remember how much she has changed in twelve months. She was bolder, tougher. She has so much angst and she’s not afraid to say what’s on her mind. In a way, I admire her more. But a part of me felt sad because I realize I don’t really know her as much as I thought I did. “You couldn’t choose a better knife to kill yourself with.” Paris said to me over the phone. “Actually, that’s not a knife. It’s an F-in samurai!”

Emma imagined stepping off a plane into a completely different world. New streets. New people. No memories of Daniel. No reminders of Claire. A completely fresh start. The thought sent a strange mixture of excitement and fear rushing through her chest. “What if I fail?” Emma asked quietly. “You won’t,” Mia replied. “And if I do?” “Then at least you failed while living in Paris.” Emma laughed softly again. “You’re impossible.” “And you’re overthinking,” Mia said. “Emma, listen to me. Staying there will only keep reminding you of what happened. But Paris? That could be the beginning of something new.”

Sofia I stood there, staring at the closed door, feeling the weight of the next six hours settle on my shoulders. She could turn again. Both you and Maya could be in danger. I let my head tip back, stared at the water stain on the ceiling, and let out a breath so long it emptied me out. “I miss Paris,” I said to the empty air. It came out small, tired, and I almost laughed at myself for thinking the city could fix what was happening here.

"Let me guess. It is you who decided not to go that high. I know how much you hate places even though you live in a high building." "That's not true, I am not afraid of high buildings, I just think it is not nice to be in them all the time." She said. "Don't be silly Megan, it's like they would all fall. That is not possible." "You would never know Megan." "Whatever." The conversation went on till they were ready to leave. They all said their goodbyes. Paris was one of the best places she had ever gone to. She made a lot of beautiful memories here, memories she does not want to ever forget.

The feeling of being watched. She glanced behind her. Nothing. A couple holding hands. A woman walking a dog. Two students arguing about something passionately French. Perfectly normal. Jessica shook her head. Then continued walking. Halfway home she stopped at a small café. The owner knew her now. One of the things she loved about Paris. People remembered you. Or at least some people did. She ordered coffee. Sat by the window. Opened her sketchbook. And gradually relaxed. The feeling faded. By the time she left, she felt slightly foolish.

Enough Paris , if your visit today is to talk about a woman who had cheated on me with my brother then i would as well ask you to leave " i told her harshly. She shuddered in fear as she saw my eyes flashed with anger. "I'm sorry" she walk towards me and sighed " actually i came here to remind you about us "We have had this conversation a billion times Paris , right now i can't get married and putting it bluntly you need to find your mate as well " "I do not want anyone except you Henry . You know deep inside you that i desire no one else except you" I look down into her eyes, the sincerity in them. She stared back at me as i clenched my jaw.

FELIX ------ It had been a week since Paris, Rafael and I had that encounter outside the library. I was so quick to assume Paris was late that I didn’t even try to listen to her. The security guard had to tell me that she was actually an hour and half earlier than I was, I didn’t even notice the clean office, arranged files and the coffee in her hand. I was too busy trying to be rude to her. Later on, I was told there was a camera and a recorder in my office other than the ones we install.

Months later, Paris smelled like fresh rain and cigarette smoke. The city had a way of holding onto contradictions, of being both soft and sharp, warm and cold, alive and aching with ghosts. For Sherry, it mirrored exactly what lived inside her. It had been four months since she walked out of Enzo’s life, since the night she left behind the quiet devastation of his father’s office and booked a one-way ticket to Paris. She remembered the cold glass of the plane window pressed against her cheek that night, the blur of lights fading beneath her, and the way her body felt like it was made of glass, fragile, breakable, yet somehow still holding together.

Except. Every time I thought about Paris, I was forced to remember the one thing that Paris didn’t have: Jesse. There was no way to bring him with me. I could never ask that of him, even if I thought that he might agree to it. His whole life was here. I knew how lonely and miserable I was being away from my life in Paris, and I could never wish that on him. Which was what would happen if I dragged him away from his life here in North Carolina.

All of the rest were either my pictures and ours but there was a different one that caught my attention. It was like a map or a blueprint. It was titled 'Smith de Paraiso' it was where the house and the location. This was what I was looking for, my escape plan. I quickly removed the map from the frame and rolled it as I huddled it inside my jacket.