Alone in Paris

Chapter One: The Romantic Streets of Paris

The streets of Paris are crowded. Because of this, I don't want to stay long. People surround the marketplace on the corner as I walk by. I dodge and weave through the horde of tourists, careful not to touch, or bump anyone as I walk by. The owner of the market is yelling in French. I don't understand most of what he shouts, only catching the words fruit, vegetables, and fresh.

   Being so confined around all these people is making my heart race. There is barely enough space between the bodies for me to get through. People are talking over each other as they try to push their way closer to the market. I flinch away whenever someone gets too close to knocking into me.

   Just one more block, I tell myself. My hands are twitching at my sides, tempted to push and shoulder my way through the crowd just to reach the other side. It's nearly impossible to see beyond the cluster to know where it ends. I just want to make it through before I have a panic attack.

I finally break through the last of the people, thankfully without being touched or shoved. I let out a long, shaky sigh and run my sweaty hands down my jeans. I hate leaving my apartment. Always have, and always will.

It's another block before I reach my destination, but when I push open the door to the bookstore, I'm filled with relief. The bell above the door chimes, announcing the arrival of a customer as I step inside. A woman looks up from behind a heavy, wooden desk that is off to the side of the shop. She smiles at me before making her way to me. I smile back weakly.

"Are you looking for anything in particular?" she asks when she reaches me.

"No, just browsing," I tell her, lying through my forced smile. We stand there in awkward silence for a long moment until I finally walk away. Once I'm out of sight, I let the fake smile fall from my lips.

The store is empty of anyone else but the owner and me, giving me full-range to wander. I take in the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, walking until I come to the CLASSICS shelf. I begin scanning the spines of the books, quickly reading their titles before letting my eyes continue to wander.

My search ends when the title, Jane Eyre, stares back at me. I pick it off the shelf and flip through the pages. I was obsessed with the book in high school, reading it several times to grasp every detail. Every word added to the mystery of the plot. I missed reading it.

But I can't have it.

I may never get to read every word the book holds in its pages again.

"Have a good day," the lady calls from behind her desk as I make my way to the exit, only to be overwhelmed by the crowd again.

"Thank you," I answer in a small voice.

After pushing my way back through the crowd, I make a sharp right to walk down an alley. When I come to the end of the alley, I make a left and then pass three iron staircases before walking up the fourth. I glance around before opening the door.

Once inside, I turn and immediately lock the door. With a sigh, I close my eyes and lean against it. I made it.

Pushing off the door, I walk into the main entrance and up the creaking staircase. The banisters are crooked with cobwebs in between the balusters. The paint is cracked and chipped away in numerous places here and there. A thick coating of dust also covers the railing. My nose wrinkles at just the thought of running my hand over it.

The old complex has five floors, and my apartment is at the very top. Though there is an elevator, I never dared to trust it. I'm willing to take my chances with the creaky stairs, even though the steps are rotten, old, and rickety.