Outside the streets are still damp from rain that came and went.

But we’re inside the first restaurant we could find, down a backstreet in London. Cheap Italian food and cut glasses filled with brown liquor. I watch the light glitter, refracted across the ice.

“What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing.” But I know the small smile that dances across my lips betrays me.

I’m thinking about you. About Autumn adventures; Paris in the heart of November. How the seasons change and how beautiful that can be.

On a busy street in London my hand finds yours, fingers entwined winding our way down the river. The sky is illuminated by skyscrapers, cosy bars, the London Eye. It could be cold but I wouldn’t notice. You breathe a plume of smoke and I watch the leaves flutter on by.



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