Children of the Seine

It was a merciless night in Paris, and Jeannot was caught in the middle of it.

The wind bit and the rain was as sharp as teeth, chewing through the ratty coat pulled over his head and sinking into his bones. Jeannot sat huddled with his back to the parapet of the bridge, rubbing his arms and legs to press some semblance of warmth and feeling into them. His teeth chattered but it was lost over the rush of the roaring Seine beneath, washing the cold over him even when the wind and the rain gave him a brief respite.

He blew a breath over his fingers, and stared bitterly at them. The ones remaining were tinged blue at their tips. He scoffed and yanked the sleeves of his coat over his hands, fisting them carefully around the torn shreds over knuckles.

"Stupid, s-stupid, stupid," he muttered resentfully, shivering. "How can it be this cold in the summer?"

His stomach growled, and Jeannot almost gagged at how fiercely his stomach ached. For a moment, he swallowed uneasily, but managed to keep his empty stomach from flinging itself over the bridge. When it was over, Jeannot huffed an empty laugh, shaking his head slowly before dropping it to his knees.

"This is all too... too stupid," he breathed, though the words were snatched away by the crashing of the Seine.

He supposed he should be thankful that this bridge was empty, but he was never one to appreciate life. He never heard a quieter bridge, and it set him on edge. There was always some sort of noise in Paris, from the carriages to the people walking around the streets in streams, but in the pitch black of the bridge and the surging of the Seine underneath, he couldn't help but feel as though he were above rushing souls instead of rushing waves.

Jeannot shivered, huddling deeper into his drenched coat, trying to cover his ears. The cloth inside was just as soaked and slimy as it was on the outside, and it radiated cold like the sun radiated heat. Every jostle to the rag oozed water onto Jeannot, but he clung onto the ratty coat like a drowning man. Even as it was falling apart at the seams, he set his jaw and gripped it with all of his strength to keep the wind from ripping it away and hurling it into the river. But even as his jacket flapped wildly around his ears, he could still hear it.

Was that a voice coming from the river? Or was it just his imagination?

His body haltingly, achingly, turned towards the parapet, and he looked through its gaps.

At first, it was hard to separate the blackness around him and the blackness of the waters. Then he spotted the foam glistening on the river's surface like little falling stars. Jeannot's eyes widened as heard the voice once more, weaving between the waves and the foam.

He licked his lips and tasted salt. He blinked, hastily rubbing his face clear only for the rain to embed itself into it again. Some small vestige of heat rushed into his ears but his face felt numb.

"Who's there?" he croaked between the stone bars of the parapet.

The only thing that echoed back was the stars in the water.

Jeannot huffed out an empty laugh and slumped down to his knees. "What a waste," he said. He breathed deeply through his nose. "Maybe if I ignore the voices coming from the river, I won't know I'm mad."

He turned around, leaning his back against the bridge once more. Idly, he began rubbing at the drenched rags around the nubs of his fingers. They were completely numb, and it was hard to get them to straighten after being clenched for so long. "Michel had a bag of stars and he would show them off to the rest of the factory, but it was only ever empty," he mused. "Anaelle said she saw colored lights dancing in the shadows and sometimes she tried to catch them. She always missed. I hear voices coming from the water and they sound like my family." He cackled derisively, then coughed, doubling over from the force of it. "They tell me the water's fine. I think I should have some complaints."