15 December 2014

Sabrina Returns From Paris

Sabrina Fairchild sighed as she carried her small poodle up the steps and through the door of the plane. All of her memories from the last two years were in this breath. Her perfected skill at making vichyssoise, walks along the Seine, and dancing with the Baron St. Fontanel had transformed her into the swan that now boarded this transatlantic flight. She considered Paris the essence of everything she wanted to be. The Bois de Boulogne smelled sweetest after the rainfall. She was sweet when eating soufflé. La vie en rose floated on the lukewarm night air. Thanks to the lyrics of Edith Piaf, Sabrina achieved buoyancy in life. The view of la tour Eiffel, the collections of le Musée du Louvre, and walking slowly in le Jardin des Tuileries were pivotal to life by her new definition. She looked upon the world as an ocean in which to float and swim. Sabrina resolved that when she returned to Long Island, she would retain all of the lessons she had obtained from the City of Light. She learned she was just as fabulous when partaking in fine French dining as she was indulging in a book in her accommodation above the garage of the Larabee compound. Sabrina's fundamentals were constant. The world could not shake her. Instead, she would shake it. David stirred in the lap of her gray suiting skirt. As the plane took to the sky, she looked down on the city with a smile. Her lips seemed to mold permanently to that upturned shape. She dreamed of reuniting with her dearest father as she crossed the Atlantic.
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Along the Seine

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