<div style="text-align: center"><span style="font-family:Homemade Apple"><span style="font-size: 22px">Strangers Again</span></span>​</div><div style="margin: auto; overflow: visible; max-width: 60%; font-family: Bookman; text-align: justify"><br/>
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</div>Indeed, life was cruel; it had brought the one person she did not want to see in Paris—miles away from her hometown. It took her a moment for the idea to sink in as she narrowed her eyes at the man before her. He appeared to be the same, but there was something different about him she couldn’t place. The way he dressed was much more stylish than when he was dating her. His artsy shirt of a woman’s drawn face was the focal point of his mostly black attire. It somehow fitted the art gallery crowd; and she wondered if he was here to see an art show or a specific curator. Camilla’s train of thought was interrupted as she heard his name utter across his lips in a hesitant manner as though he wasn’t used to saying her name anymore. She tried her best to keep her composure calm and confident with little emotion alluding to the face that she was affected by his presence. Taking a quick look around her surroundings, she noticed the line moving forward and the line behind her had become longer. People were already waiting outside the doors and onto the street.<br/>
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<b>“Uh, no,”</b> she stepped forward to close the gap as she was nearing the cashier. She turned her gaze away still reeling from having an unexpected encounter with her ex-boyfriend. It was somewhat awkward, but at least he was alone. She didn’t have to pretend to be happy for him if she saw someone beside him. Clearing her throat, she glanced over her shoulder and saw a taller French local before turning back to Arthur, <b>“If he says you can cut him, then you can stand in line behind me. If not,”</b> she shrugged her shoulders as she wasn’t going to be handing out favors for him. They weren’t friends, but mere acquaintances after separating. He was a stranger she once knew and held past feelings for. She didn’t owe him anything—not even a place in line. Giving him a curt smile, she turned her attention forward as the person standing in front of her was finished with their order. She offered the young woman a warm smile, <b>“Bonjour, un café crème si vous plait,”</b> she rummaged through her purse before handing her a few Euros. Nodding her head, she left her place in line and walked over to the pick-up area.<br/>
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The brunette stood on the side, allowing others to pass by, as she waited for her drink to be ready. Her mind was a nervous wreck, but her composure maintained its confident stance. Last night she had thought she’d seen Arthur and throughout the day past memories flooded back to her. It could’ve been shown as a sign for events to happen; and meeting her ex after many years later was surely concrete evidence of it. Releasing a pent-up sigh, she felt slightly tense as she was easily startled when someone called out her order. <b>“Oui?”</b> She walked up to the counter and nodded her head, grasping at the warm cup of coffee and walked over to an empty table. As though a weight had been lifted off her shoulders, she sighed again; her eyes checked her surroundings before training them on her piping hot coffee. Arthur was still in the café, standing in line with the rest of the tourists and locals. Pressing her lips together and sucking on her bottom lip, her mind replayed the scene over and over as their words echoed effortlessly through her ears. What was so special about today that fate decided it was high time to see her ex-boyfriend? Paris was a city of romance and perhaps she hadn’t ventured far enough to find a place where Arthur couldn’t reach her.<br/>
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Squeezing her eyes shut for a moment, she groaned to herself as she tried her best to keep the feelings and memories at bay. Shaking her head and knocking some sense back into her, she opened her eyes again and took another sip of her coffee. The warm liquid embraced her curvaceous frame and shielded her from the cold winter air. It didn’t help that the long line was past the doors; the crisp air blew into the café reminding everyone that it was still winter. <b>“Mm,”</b> she hadn’t planned for anything today, but she was careful in thinking about where she wanted to go. Her thoughts were based on Arthur’s attire—thinking that if she avoided art galleries and museums it would be safe not to bump into him anytime soon. Camilla couldn’t resist not looking at him though. It had been quite a while since she last saw him, and she wondered what his life was like now. The most pertinent question was if he was with someone else, especially now in Paris.<br/>
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