Me before her

Epilogue.

          On the way, complying with the suspension, she returned to work, but a few days later she presented her resignation, it was tortuous to go to work knowing that she would never see Maite again.

         Painting was the only thing that gave her some company and comfort in those days the young woman felt a little lost. Painting helped her cope with the pain and grief. Emilio and Cinta had been behind her trying to convince her that she should take a trip on her own and that Paris was the best option. Camino remembered that conversation she had with Maite once in which the brunette told her which was one of the best places in that country. Maybe visiting the francophone country would be a nice way to pay tribute to the painter.

          Finally Emilio managed to convince her and gave her a ticket to the city of light.

          She was sitting in the shade of the dark green awning of a café, contemplating the Rue des Francs Bourgeois, while the warm Parisian autumn sun was shining on one side of her face. In front of her the waiter had deposited, with typically French efficiency, a plate of croissants and a large cup of coffee. On the street, about a hundred meters away, two cyclists stopped near the traffic light and struck up a conversation. One was carrying a blue backpack with two baguettes sticking out of it at an odd angle. In the air, still and heavy, floated the aromas of coffee and pastries and the pungent hint of someone's cigarettes.

          She took a sip of coffee and for an instant it transported her to Maite's apartment, a place that seemed a million miles away. She squinted through the low sun and watched a woman in sunglasses touching up her hair in front of a storefront mirror. She pursed her lips at the sight of her reflection, straightened up a bit and continued on her way.

- Des excuses... Camino? She was interrupted by a woman she didn't know.

- Yes...? shyly affirmed the brunette.

- Je suis Sophie, Maite told me that I could find you here," she said with a sweet smile and a clear French accent.

          Then the painter's friend took a letter out of her purse and handed it to the even more confused Camino.

- Merci replied almost stuttering as she took the letter.

- Au revoir, the messenger said goodbye and resumed the course of her walk.

          Camino put down her cup, took a deep breath and opened the letter that the Parisian had given her.

          On the envelope, in capital letters, was written, under her name:

          To read in Paris, accompanied by croissants and a large cup of coffee with milk.

          The brunette laughed, while crying, as she read the envelope for the first time: how typical of Maite, bossy to the end.

          The waiter (a tall, wiry man with a dozen little pieces of paper sticking out of his apron) turned around and saw the look on the Spanish woman's face.

- Everything all right?, he asked with raised eyebrows.

- Yes," she replied. And she added, a little shyly, "Oui.

Recommendation: Paris By Craig Armstrong (Soundtrack "Me before you")

          The letter was handwritten. The brunette leaned back in her chair and began to read.

Camino:

          By the time you read this it will have been a little over a week. I hope the coffee is good and strong and the croissants are fresh and the weather is still nice enough to sit outside on one of those metal chairs that never quite sit firmly on the sidewalk.