The Chronicles of Venice Blue

three

There were two things he was certain of: he could not feel his legs and he hasn't yet called or received a call from June. He was sort of hoping to get a bunch of texts from June, actually. He reminded himself of June's ill father and punched himself mentally until he felt guilty. He swiped open his phone and iMessaged her with his new number.

Hey, I just landed in Paris a little while ago. Took forever to find a place that sold SIM Cards but this is my number in Paris. At the hotel, famished. I miss you.

Then he sat at the edge of his hotel room bed and waited weakly but eagerly for her reply. He waited and waited. Then he stopped and decided to take a nap. The bed was nothing nice, really. It was a little too hard for his liking and the pillow was flat. He stood up with his limped legs and went to find an extra pillow for him to place on top of the one that he already had. It was a different size. Much smaller. He shrugged and placed it on top of his other pillow and took a nap. A forty-five minutes nap to be precise.

When he woke up, it was almost one in the afternoon and he realised how hungry he was. He reached out to his phone on his nightstand on his left and he checked the phone. He was excited, for a brief moment; and then he was very disappointed. He pushed himself off of his bed and he skidded down the stairs and went over to the lady to ask her about lunch and if they served it here. Unfortunately, she gave him yet another apologetic smile, "No, I'm sorry. We only serve breakfast here."

"Okay, thank you." He gave her the biggest smile he could muster to not make her feel bad, he waved her goodbye and walked out the door of the hotel and into the arms of central Paris. He put on his pair of black Ray-Bans that were given to him by June. He checked his phone one last time, hoping that maybe, just maybe, in the span of that five minutes, June might've texted him something.

Nothing.

He sighed, maybe she was at work again. Her boss did demand quite a lot from her. Retailing jobs, not the easiest, especially when working two to pay for her father's medical bills. He sighed once more and put it back in his pocket and took a walk out under the hot sun of Paris. The walk was easing his mind and he smiled at strangers who would walk past him, ever once in a while, maybe a wave to a little child in a stroller. He skimmed the beige bricks in the aged buildings around him and he allows the sunshine to skim the surface of his face as he did with the buildings and with sincerity, he smiled back at it. To which, he truly felt, it winked back.

He reached a cafe, red and white just like many others around it. One of the waiters came over and greeted him, "Bonjour, Monsieur." To which Will replied with a confused, "Bonjour."

The waiter, gave him a nod and asked, "Voudriez-vous s'asseoir dedans ou dehors?" He asked with a smile as he looked at Will. He pointed at the seats inside and then the seats outside.

Will scratched his head, "Sorry, I don't speak French."

"Ah," the waiter said, "Inside? Or outside?" He pointed at the seats inside and then the seats outside, again.

"Oh," Will said, feeling stupid. He could've just guessed from motions that the waiter had been acting out, "Outside, please."

"D'accord." The waiter smiled patiently, he was probably in his late teens or early twenties. He looked fairly young. He showed Will his seats and then disappeared only to reappear a few seconds later with two menus in hand. One for drinks and one for food. They were both in English. He nodded and then he left Will alone to make the decision. Will flipped through the menu, paying more attention to the price on the right hand side of each page than the dish. He sighed and calculated how he was going to plan his meal. He decided that he wasn't going to have an appetiser, but instead, spend it on some good main course. He looked up and waved, trying to catch the attention of the young waiter.