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          It was near the end of 1964. Lola and George had been dating for nearly a year, when he'd brought up the topic of marriage. The word marriage loomed over Lola's head, as the day George would visit got closer and closer.

On the days before his arrival, Lola's mind turned into a clock, waiting for the hours and minutes to pass.  When the day came that George arrived in Paris, Lola hugged him tightly. She grabbed his arm and tugged him inside of her flat. She kissed him hungrily, and George let out a laugh.

"I've missed you too, Lols," he said. She kissed him, a smile on her lips. She lead him towards her bedroom, where she pushed George on to the bed. And then, just as she was about to climb on top of him, the thoughts which had been in her head for the past couple of days suddenly formed into words.

"Do you want to go somewhere nice this weekend?"

"I'm rather enjoying this," he replied. Lola let herself fall beside George. A record was already playing in the background, and with the afternoon light spilling in, he couldn't be happier someplace else. Yet... "Where?"

"Nice."

"Lola."

"Nice, France," Lola informed him.

"Nice," George repeated. He snorted at his own joke, and at the joke Lola had made previously. "And what's there?"

"Dad. I really want you to meet him, and he escaped us all summer. But he says he's going to be there."

"If that's what you want," George said. Then, he grabbed her arm and she collapsed on top of him.

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Addy drove George and Lola to the train station. George hadn't asked precisely how long the train ride was. For the first two hours he was content reading and smoking cigarettes. When another hour went by and they still hadn't arrived, he thought it best to speak up. Lola wiped her sunglasses on her shirt, and put them on.

"How long until we get there?" He asked.

"The more I wipe these sunglasses the more they seem to get smudged."

"Lola," he sunk on his seat, annoyed that the train ride was much longer than he'd expected. "How long until we get to Nice?"

"It'll take us all day," she said. "But isn't this scenery beautiful? Don't you just love France?"

George did in fact love France. But he loved relaxing when he wasn't in a train, even more. He didn't complain, though. It was nice to have Lola with him, to have her talk about things that had happened lately. When they got there, nine hours later, it was dark out.

George could see the lights of the city reflected on the endless sea. When they got to the gated community of houses Lola leaned over her seat and pressed a couple of buttons. The gates opened, and George realized they were more like mansions rather than houses. Lola's dad was rich, that much he had realized. Lola worked as a designer, a job title Lola didn't talk about much nor did she ever show George the things she'd created.

Most of the time when Lola mentioned her work, she mentioned it in passing. When Lola told the driver to stop the car, George couldn't help but stare at the house and the lavish front lawn.

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