As they both headed for the doors, it was almost inevitable that they were going to collide – they were on a direct course, and it was only when the woman stumbled that Grant reached out to stop her falling flat on her face. He was greeted with an “Oh excusez-moi, monsieur, je Suis tellement désolé,” as he lifted her upright, feeling the delicate weight of her against him. He began to smile in her direction, trying to make eye contact, but she was already gone, her head once more stuck in her phrase book and heading into the hotel itself and up the staircase straight ahead. He watched her go. It was a literal brief, but beautiful, encounter.
He shook off his daydreaming. The weeks of nothingness had dulled his senses, but he was operational now and he negotiated the revolving doors to the
