I believe that, if summer could somehow acquire a human form, he would be jovial fat man, similar to the cheap printings of Bacchus I have seen decorating some country houses. At that moment, stuck in the alley where sunlight made broken bottles glitter, I felt summer's entire weight upon my chest, as if the cheeky god itself had found his new throne in my ribs. I grabbed the knife so tightly my fingers were throbbing, and I would have, quite easily, stabbed my persecutor if it hadn't been for the voice.

I had felt the moist breath against my nape and perceived the voice, but only when the filthy hand suddenly departed my mouth did I heard the voice and the words became coherent.

"Please don't scream, it's me!"

The knife slipped right off my hand, but I didn't even hear the blade bang the pavement. I turned around at once and found myself face to face with what could have been my own reflection.

"Azelma" I gasped as my arms wrapped her slender back.

She seemed so little then, so fragile, I suddenly feared she would turn to dust in my arms. An illusion enhanced by the baggy dress she was wearing, at least two sizes too big, and the weakness with which her own skinny arms wrapped me.

"It's really you" She replied as we parted the embrace. She didn't smile, but she didn't have to because her eyes did it for her.

I took a moment to look at her right then. Her brown hair was slightly knotted and her cheeks sunk in her face making her look older than she really was. The edges of her brown dress were stained and torn for she had been dragging them down the street, but, aside from that, the gown was not that bad. I wondered, for the first time in a long time, how did I look, most importantly, how did I look through her eyes.

"You got me scared to death" I smiled "A simple 'hey' would've done the trick."

"Sorry about that," A smile finally popped in her face granting her some unexpected youth "I saw the knife and at first I wasn't sure it was you, so I just…acted. I'm glad you didn't use it though."

We both glanced at the knife on the ground.

"Trust me, me too." I picked the weapon and blew away the dust from the blade. "But tell me, how did you find me?"

"It wasn't easy, trust me. Since I heard these men talking about you, I-"

"Wait, what men?"

"I don't know who they were. But this ain't a matter of who, it's a matter of what"

"'Of what'?" I repeated, arching an eyebrow.

"Of what they were saying. I have no idea of what you did, but they sure weren't happy about it. Well, that's putting it lightly, let's just say they were very creative talking about all they could do with your guts."

I paused and looked at her for a moment. After taking a deep breath I replied.

"There's only one way I'd like my guts, and that's left alone" I smiled, but my hands were sweating horribly "So, you heard the men talking and…"

"I knew it couldn't be a coincidence, I mean how many Éponines could be runnin' around Paris, right? It was just hunch, but I knew it was you they talked about. I have had my eyes open, and then I thought I saw you yesterday so I came back to this area, and well here we are. Here you are. How did you manage to fool la faucheuse anyway? "

"It's a long story, but in simple terms, I think God isn't done making fun of me."

"Could be worse, you don't look so bad." She stopped suddenly and her smiled disappeared completely "I'd like to keep talking, but father's gonna start wondering where I am."

At the mention of our father my own smile faded too.

"Does he know about me?" I asked.

"No, I didn't say a word, but you know how it is with him, I think it's only a matter of time before he finds out. He won't hear it from me though, but you have to be careful, and I have to go now."

"Wait" Before she could turn to leave I grabbed her boney wrist. "We still got a lot of talking to do."

"I know…let's meet tonight."

"Port de Saints Pères, midnight?"

"Alright, I'll try to sneak out without father noticing, but if I take too long you should go back."

I nodded and slowly released her wrist.

"Take care."

"You too." She gave me a faint smile before turning around and disappearing in the maze of streets and alleys, leaving me alone with my own thoughts and the voice that whispered it had all been some sort of hallucination triggered by the heat.


The chess board had turned into a grayish mass, dull, meaningless, for my mind kept going back to the alley. The wooden king had been replaced by my sister's face and every move came with a phrase that had been said. I thought of her, disappearing into the streets that had educated us both, while I was there, sitting on a beautiful office, surrounded by colorful books and bathed by the sunlight that poured through the window, and only a lost bishop or the clock's ticking to disturb the peace. There was a knot in my throat for sure, and my lack of attention finally prompted Enjolras to stop the match and ask me if I was feeling ill.

"Ill? No, no, monsieur, not at all…"

"I know it is none of my business, and you should not feel forced, in any way, to reply" He said as he played with one of the pawns he had conquered "but you were acting…odd yesterday and you are certainly distracted today. Is everything alright?"

"It's just the heat, monsieur, nothing to worry about, but thank you for asking." There was a small pause during which I was supposed to be thinking my next move. And did I come up with my next move.

"Although, monsieur, there's something I would like to ask you."

He looked at me and nodded, beckoning me to continue.

"I do hate to ask monsieur, you and madame have been so generous already, but I was wondering if, when your mother comes, I could join you. I, I can find a way to pay. Madame let's me keep the change so I have some sous saved and I'll work to pay the rest."

"Please don't worry about the money, I will ask my mother. She will be coming alone so I presume there will be plenty of room in the coach, I can imagine no reason for her to say no."

"Thank you, monsieur, thank you so much."

"To be honest, mademoiselle" He replied "I would give you my own place in that coach, if that was an option."

"You want to stay in Paris?"

"It feels wrong" He frowned "to flee the city like that. I would prefer to stay, not that it would actually change anything. Being useless here is just the same as being useless there, in the end I wonder if there is even a difference."

The difference between living and dying a horrible death, I thought, yet I didn't say it out loud.

"You're not useless, monsieur"

I wish I could have come up with something more clever or at least something that didn't sound so empty, but my head was far away from that office. He remained silent, and so did I.

As a matter of fact, I think I remained silent until the night cloaked the city. I thought about it, over and over. Azelma found me, father would too. I did trust her, but she had point when she had said it wouldn't be long before I found myself at the center of a family reunion. That was, of course, if Lheureux didn't find me first.

Needless to say, I didn't have any rest that night. I waited, listening to the clock's excruciating ticking. Tick, should I even go to the meeting? Tock, she is my sister. Tick, no one will hear you scream in the empty streets. Tock.

I tiptoed out of the room, taking with me the faithful knife. I opened the room's door with the delicacy I would have used to take a sleeping madame's necklace at the opera. As I moved towards the kitchen I glanced back at the room and made sure Amantine was still sleeping soundly within.

The kitchen was submerged in darkness, only a faint light poured through the window and a minimum streak of moonlight peaked underneath the door. I had spent a fair amount of time in that room, enough to find the pantry without stumbling against a corner or the wooden stool Amantine used to reach the top shelves. I opened one of the compartments, and though the ticking that echoed all over the house reminded me of my solitude, I couldn't help to look back and make sure no incriminating eyes were set on me.

Slowly, as if the bread within was made of glass, I picked it up and placed it on a counter. Next, I reached for one of the drawers and pulled gently. Nonetheless, the sole pull was not enough, for the old wood creaked and complained as it refused to yield. I had to pull harder several times, and with a thud the drawer finally opened, exposing its interior completely. I glanced at the adjoining room's door, but not a pip came from Amantine. This was my cue to select one of the white napkins from the drawer before closing it again. Carefully, I placed the cloth under the bread and took out the knife. I calculated the biggest morceau I could cut without anyone noticing it was missing and placed the knife above it. But before the blade even touched the crust, a sound made me raise the knife again, and as I turned to see the kitchen entrance my blood turned cold.

Standing there, supported on his crutches, was Enjolras. His blue eyes jumped from the bread on the counter to the knife in my hand and finally locked on my own eyes. Well, I thought right then, it was good while it lasted.


Featuring mademoiselle Azelma "red herring" Thérnadier. I hope you weren't too disappointed.

I want to thank Break This Spell666, a guest, Midnightstar-and-Echosong, Freedom909, ConcreteAngelRoxHerHalo, RavenCurls, Eryes and dmc6792 for their support!

Remember, all comments, critiques, advice, questions, insults, or suggestions, are welcomed.

La faucheuse: the grim reaper

Morceau: piece

Thanks for reading, and watch the world cup final, it will be pretty cool (even if Colombia is not in it :( )

Greetings from Colombia