I found it clasped between the pages of Simone de Beauvoir, and there I was.

That time when I accidentally put my hand on yours, and we both laughed. You in delight, me in surprise. Your beautiful green eyes sought mine, but I looked down, coquettishly, I couldn’t look back at you.

It took us both unawares, that split second - but neither was unwanted. 

I’d doodled a little dog on the napkin, it was a well healed cafe in St Michel. We drank coffee and devoured pastries. I still remember the feel of the crème patisserie on my lips. The vibration of the city’s traffic, it made me feel intoxicated and alive.

I’d accidentally fallen in love with Paris, and you’d mistakenly fallen in love with me. And we secretly knew neither of these loves could last. I’d folded the napkin and put it in the book. 

You stood up and asked me to come with you. So I followed, I succumbed, and in spite of it causing so much heartache, that napkin in its folds, reminded me some souvenirs are to be savoured.