Sanity // s.m. [IN EDITING]

[Epilogue]

A/N
after years of dragging out this story, you might be happy to know that i'm not completely tossing it. anyway, here goes an epilogue, hope you enjoy. thanks for being part of the journey of my first fanfic! feel free to check out my other shawn fics on my page as well.

***

Shawn

I stroll mindlessly down the crowded sidewalk, unplugged from my phone and engaged enough to notice the people, weather and general atmosphere of the city we've called home for a little while now.

Most walked, but some steered their pastel colored mopeds down the cycle lane close to the sidewalk, helmets buckled beneath their chins as they carried boxes or bags with them on the back seat. I liked watching them drive those little things. Elle always tells me I couldn't pull it off, but I still insist I get one so I can fit in with these people.

It had rained hard last night, puddles scattered all about the street as leftover water dripped from the overhead roofs and spilled out the gutters into the flooding sewers. I loved the smell of the rain fresh off the pavement, moisture lingering in the air.

I go to the open the swinging door to the small Parisian Café, and seeing that there was another person going for it at the same time as me, I held the door open for her with a smile and gestured for her to go first. She gratefully returned my smile, as if she wasn't acclimated to politeness. Most people here aren't.

I step inside, the cozy vibes of the café instantly outweighing the loud chatting and mug clanking. It smelled like dark roast espresso and freshly baked bread.

I scan the room for a few seconds before a girl's eyes glance in my direction and I see her immediately wave me over. That's her.

As I step towards her, I see she had caramel colored skin with slightly darker eyes, her glossy brown hair straightened and tucked behind her ears. She looks up at me and gives me a small smile, motioning for me to sit in the seat across from her.

"Bonjour monsieur," she greets me as I pull out the chair, her french a lot more fluent sounding than mine. "How are you today?"

"I'm good, thanks for asking," I take a deep breath, returning her smile politely.

"Thanks for meeting with me," she tells me, closing her laptop in front of her and setting it aside.

"Oh it's no problem," I soften my eyes, placing my elbows on the table and running my left thumb over my right.

"You can go order something if you'd like," she tilts her head towards the counter, but I shake my head. "I'm not really hungry," I tell her, accustomed now to the fact that cafés here in Paris don't really have a wide variety of actual coffee, and the food they serve is much too pricy. It's cheaper to just order an alcoholic drink, but it wasn't even noon yet.

"I don't know if your manager told you, but, my name is Karyna Marroquin. You can call me Kary."

"Nice to meet you," I remark, drumming my fingers on the wooden table. "Where's your recording device?"

She looks confused for a moment, before a wave of realization washes over her face and she shakes her head. "Oh, that won't be necessary. I know they're used to quote you directly, but I really don't want this to be so much an interview as it is a casual meeting and discussion that I'll write about later."