paris

Last night, I went to Paris. I was chasing my sister through the streets around dusk, and her boyfriend was scattering diamonds like breadcrumbs along the cobblestone streets, across lamp lit bridges, bats hovering overhead. She laughed, grabbing handfuls of pebbles and diamonds, and stuffing her pockets. I followed along behind, kicking through the dust with my toe, wondering how many of them were real. The streets grew darker. Firelight from the city lamps glowed in their black metal cages. We followed him, collecting diamonds, clawing like kids at the taffy entrails of a piñata.

His hands were drained, all the diamonds scattered across a bridge over the Seine. We thought that was the end, the game was over – but then, we saw him toss a silver cuff that landed heavily in the black gravel. An oval amethyst gleamed in its center, bolstered by turquoise stones set into the metal. Our eyes locked on the ring at the end of a thin silver chain set between the amethyst and the turquoise -- a pink half-moon diamond, fresh as lemon wedge, reflecting the moonlight.