Paris. Fashion Captial. La Ville-Lumière. The most romantic city. A place can have many names but not live upto them. He mused often, and long, especially on the love-epithet bestowed on the city.
She was a pretty young thing. He, was just another painter, waiting for his big break. She was on a sabbatical, travelling across Europe. He was awaiting his big break, right on the banks of the Seine, painting potraits of tourists. Walking along the Seine, she mused about how perfectly was Paris appelled ‘the city
of love’. Halting every now and then to admire the sights, she wandered upon the group of painters sitting together.
‘My lady, come over. Let me paint your potrait’. ‘you look as pretty as a princess, no, a queen. do sit for me’… smiling at them all, she drifted over to a corner of the group where a shy-looking painter was sitting. He smiled back at her. Impulsively, she asked, ‘will you paint my potrait?’
The sitting wasn’t long, only about an hour. He fell in love in about half that time. She chatted about the places she had visited, what she loved about Paris (Tour Eiffel, just so beautiful), what she disliked about Paris, where she was going next and so on. Her hands caressed the air, her hair, she played with her earrings. She blinked against the light, and dimpled at his smile. He soon realised all his lifelong grouses againt Paris were over.
The moment he finished the painting, she came over to inspect and took out her purse. ‘For you, it’s free.. would you like to have a cup of coff.. ‘ The mobile tweet interrupted him. ‘Claudio.. where on earth have you been? I have been waiting here for ages. *pause* Ofcourse we are going on the cruise. Just wait for me,
I’ll be there soon.’ Click. The phone shut out his thoughts. A dimple again. ‘I would love to have coffee, but my boyfriend, he’s waiting for me. Next time I visit Paris, maybe. Thank you so much for this.’
P.S. Finished this off hastily, not as good as I would have wished. 
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