Blame

Chapter Two; Coffee

Song: 

1941, occupied Paris, France

The next day, as per usual, she arrived at the little coffee shop at 10:58, decided to sit inside for today. At exactly 11 o'clock she ordered a coffee, as she looked out of the window. This was the best table, for sure. The best window view on the street. That's why she chose it. Perfect for just plain old simple looking. When the door rang, implying another person had entered, her head turned back towards the entrance, and there he was. That familiar soldier. "Is madame Beauchêne here?" She raised an eyebrow at him, as the person behind the counter pointed towards her. His eyes followed the finger, and landed on her. His face immediately seemed to brighten. "Ah, merci." He approached her table. "Hello mademoiselle. May I join you?" He spoke very politely, and the more she heard him speak and act, the more she felt like this one wasn't a bad one. "Take a seat, monsieur." She gently smiled at him, as she looked at the blank page of her notebook. "I found which column you wrote. You wrote about me yesterday." She nodded, with a smile on her face. "That is correct." "Why?" He gently tilted his head, while his eyes wore a look of question. "I had been sitting there for three and a half hour. Nothing had happened. But a new face, a new soldier- those are the things the people of Paris love to read about. They want to hear what's new and what's old. That's why I wrote about you." She lit a cigarette, and offered him one. He accepted it, and lit his one too. She took a deep inhale, and let out a long breath of smoke. He did the same, staring out of the window. She took this time to observe his face. He looked freshly shaved, he had little dimples when he smiled, and his hair was neatly done. He wore a German uniform, of course, and she wondered how he looked without it. How'd he look in normal clothes, in a normal life, during a normal time? Her mind wandered places she usually never wandered, as she took another puff from the cigarette. "I sit here often, even when I don't write the column. It's a nice spot, and the coffee's very nice." She wore a gentle smile on her face, as she turned her look back out the window. When he noticed she had moved her gaze away from his face, he turned his eyes towards her. He never really took in all of her features. Her face was flawless, not a single imperfection to be found upon sight. Her blonde hair framed her face beautifully, and rested a centimeter or ten below her shoulders. She had a slim and overall pretty turned up nose. Overall, she was beautiful, to say the least. He wasn't sure how he felt about her. She was very pretty, but that beauty seemed to go further than her looks. She seemed very friendly, and overall a nice person. But it might've just been that she was friendly, unlike many French inhabitants. Either way, he wanted to get to know her better, talk to her more, learn about all of her quirks and secrets. "What do you do for a living?" The question made her head turn towards him, as she slightly tilted her head. She took a moment to take in the question, and think of a clear answer. "I write. I also studied as a medic. I got the diploma but haven't done anything with it yet. My parents used to own an hotel, but I sold it. I tried to run it, but I didn't even last a month." A gentle smile appeared on her face, as she thought back at the mess it had been. It surely was fun as long it lasted, but she couldn't keep up the quality like her parents did. She sold it for quite some money. "What happened to your parents?" Again, she couldn't compose an answer quickly. "I'm sorry if that's intrusive. If you don't want to answer it, you don't have to." She shook her head. "No, no, it's fine, monsieur. I was just taken aback a little." She gently smiled at him. "My father died in the first few weeks of the war. My mom died a few weeks after. It's supposedly of natural causes, but I believe it was a suicide." A silence rested. "I'm sorry." She shook her head. He noticed that that was definitely something she did often. "Don't be sorry, it's not your fault. It doesn't matter either way. They were always too busy with the hotel, so it's not like it made a lot of difference without them." She took a puff of the cigarette that she seemingly had forgotten about. "Sure, I miss them. But it's not like I saw them a lot more before." She chuckled. "And how about you?" Her eyes connected with his. "I mean- my life was never that interesting before the war. Got my mom, got my dad, that's it." He smiled at the thought of his parents at home. "I miss them sometimes, but we write letters." She smiled at the thought of his parents sending him letters about life at home, and for a moment she missed her parents. Though she quickly shook that thought away, not wanting to think about it. "Honestly, before the war started I had this boring column about life and no one really cared. This column really put me out there. Maybe I'll even publish a book sometime, you know?" She smiled gently, as she looked towards him. He took a puff from the cigarette, and smiled. "I bet you can." She smiled back. There was definitely some sort of connection going on between the two, but neither were sure what kind of. But they definitely both liked it a ton.