- Aria -
As I walked through the narrow streets of Los Angeles, the sunny warmth enveloped me, a stark contrast to the cozy, dim ambience of my favorite café by the Seine. Today, I was headed to Café Amour—a bistro that was trying desperately to encapsulate the essence of Paris but somehow ended up looking more like a theme park version of it. The fading paint on the walls, the plastic Eiffel Tower in the corner, and the overly enthusiastic barista attempting a French accent made me chuckle inwardly. It was a far cry from the real deal, but I was eager to see Jamie and share my new reality with him.
When I stepped inside, the familiar scent of burnt espresso wafted up my nose, mingling with the faint remnants of something resembling croissants. Jamie was already seated at a corner table,
