Sycamore Tree // H.S. (HIATUS)

thirty-one

Your white sneakers are loud on the concrete of the sidewalk while Harry's dirty Vans don't make a sound when you walk towards the town centre two hours later. The streets by day look so much happier and so much more welcoming by night. Harry holds your hand, the sun is warm on your skin.

Harry is in a particularly happy mood today, despite the lack of sleep both of you got last night.

When he got ready earlier, you laid on the bed watching him through the open door to the en-suite, he was whistling Here Comes The Sun by The Beatles non-stop, when he was finished getting dressed into some light washed jeans and a colorful button-up, and finished in the bathroom, he cuddled up next to you, kissed every inch of your face before you both broke into giggles.

"Lucille, baby?" he pulls you closer to him.

"Harry."

"Have you been here before?"

"Of course I have, my mom is from here," you say and look up at Harry's face. His brown, round sunglasses hide his eyes.

"Right," he says, dragging the word out, "how is she by the way?"

"Good, busy... she said she wants me to call her once a week," you say and as you speak, you watch your feet walk over the concrete sidewalk. "She was really nice the last time we talked, I told her about all the stuff with Katie and the things Charlie told me about and she made me feel a lot better."

Harry smiles softly and squeezes your hand, "I told you she loves you, Lucille."

"I know," you sigh, "she just doesn't think about what she says sometimes and that makes it hard."

You and him continue to walk hand in hand past the row of lush green front yards, flowers and palm trees decorate some of them. Every now and then you're greeted by the owner of the houses watering their gardens. The sky is blue, not a single cloud, the polar difference to the weather in Paris yesterday. On the other side of the street, you see a young couple with an emerald green retro stroller walking hand in hand in the sun. You recognize the white paper bag in the man's hand immediately.

"Hey, Harry?"

"Yes, baby?"

"Do you wanna go somewhere that reminds me of being young?"

Harry lets go of your hand to sling his hand around your waist. "Oh- yes."

Quickly, and more enthusiastic because you're now with a definite destination, you guide Harry into the centre of the small town. The narrow street leads you to a wide square with a set of three tall palm trees in the middle and a limestone church on one side. Different small shops, bistros, and cafés are located in the houses on either side of the square. With the camera he bought you, Harry takes a photo of the picturesque scene. Children run around the chairs and tables of the bistros and cafés where their parents enjoy their lunch with friends and discuss the gossip. You let your eyes wander across the square to find the place you're looking for.

"Wow, we're lucky today. There's no queue," you say and let your hand slide into Harry's. Together with him, you walk across the square towards a mint painted house with flower pots in front of every window. White tables stand in front of the house, different flowers stand in the large window next to the white wooden front door. A white sign with red cursive writing hangs above the door.

"Crêpes?" Harry asks after he's read the sign. You turn around and smile at him. Excitement sparks in your eyes, and as if Harry wasn't in love with them already, he has the urge to kiss you.

"Trust me!" you say and take his hand with both of yours before you walk into the lively place. The inside matches the outside perfectly. White tables, mint accessories, heart-shaped decor on the cream-colored walls. The room is filled with the scent of freshly baked crêpes. Harry watches you walk over to the till and talk to the girl, the same age as you, before she looks over to Harry and continues to talk to you. He lets his eyes wander around the room. An archway leads further into the back of the sunlit room, with more tables, but more comfortably furnished, with mint green sofas, floor lamps and armchairs.