Author's Note: I do not own the Eiffel Tower.
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September 10 2004, 1800PM, outside a Paris Hotel/the Eiffel Tower
Grateful to be outside again, Asher hailed herself a taxi. The check-out process had taken longer than she would have liked. The hotel computers had been malfunctioning, and she had offered to fix the problems to pay for her short visit. The clerk had agreed, as had both the manager and owner, who had come to investigate the problem.
It had taken her close to five hours to determine and fix the problem, but it had felt good to work with a computer again. (She had completed a double major/degree in computer science and sociology, and had not worked with a computer since she had graduated from college the previous spring.)
The owner had been grateful enough, he had offered to pay her taxi fair to the airport, but Asher had politely declined. She would not be heading to the airport. "Le Blues Bar, si vous plait, monsieur," she requested, climbing inside the taxi.
"Oui, mademoiselle."
Asher watched as the city passed her view, and she knew instinctively this would be her last visit to Paris for a long long time. The Eiffel Tower came into her view, and quickly, she ordered the taxi driver to stop.
Confused, he did as asked of him, and she paid him, and ran to the ticket booth, bag and guitar in hands, and hurried to the top. She was not alone, but still she stayed, watching as the city moved toward night and darkness, and the city lit up. She noted when the other left, discussing dinner options, but still she stayed. This was her good-bye; her final good-bye to not only who she had been, but also to her family. Silently, she took a family picture from her wallet, and hid it in the steel frame of the structure. Without a glance backwards, she headed down, and once safe on the ground once more, with bag and guitar still in hands, she decided to walk to the bar.
September 10 2004, 1800PM, outside a Paris Hotel/the Eiffel Tower
Grateful to be outside again, Asher hailed herself a taxi. The check-out process had taken longer than she would have liked. The hotel computers had been malfunctioning, and she had offered to fix the problems to pay for her short visit. The clerk had agreed, as had both the manager and owner, who had come to investigate the problem.
It had taken her close to five hours to determine and fix the problem, but it had felt good to work with a computer again. (She had completed a double major/degree in computer science and sociology, and had not worked with a computer since she had graduated from college the previous spring.)
The owner had been grateful enough, he had offered to pay her taxi fair to the airport, but Asher had politely declined. She would not be heading to the airport. "Le Blues Bar, si vous plait, monsieur," she requested, climbing inside the taxi.
"Oui, mademoiselle."
Asher watched as the city passed her view, and she knew instinctively this would be her last visit to Paris for a long long time. The Eiffel Tower came into her view, and quickly, she ordered the taxi driver to stop.
Confused, he did as asked of him, and she paid him, and ran to the ticket booth, bag and guitar in hands, and hurried to the top. She was not alone, but still she stayed, watching as the city moved toward night and darkness, and the city lit up. She noted when the other left, discussing dinner options, but still she stayed. This was her good-bye; her final good-bye to not only who she had been, but also to her family. Silently, she took a family picture from her wallet, and hid it in the steel frame of the structure. Without a glance backwards, she headed down, and once safe on the ground once more, with bag and guitar still in hands, she decided to walk to the bar.