Almost 7 months later...
In Montmartre, it was spring again, meaning that another fall and winter had passed by quickly as usual.
A very attractive young man dressed in a rather fashionable manner stepped out into the daylight from the main entrance leading out of his apartment building . He wore a high collared coat with double breasted pockets and a tie around his neck,with a black bowler hat that comfortably rested atop his head. In his right hand he bore a cane which was not used for balance, but only for decoration and show. In his left arm he held a rather heavy box whose contents seemed questionable. Smelling of fresh soap, the man was clean shaven with his dark hair neatly slicked back underneath his hat. Any young woman who'd been lucky enough to pass by him on the street couldn't help but sneak a glance at this handsome and suffisticated looking gentleman.
The man nodded to whoever looked his way, trying to limit as much eye contact as possible. He hadn't been much of a social being the past year or so, but managed to recently find work writing for columns and editorials of local papers.
What he carried with him was rather precious, thus, why he held it so carefully in his arm. He was looking for the office of a small publishing company located in the very heart of Montmartre.
He easily found the residence of the publisher who went by the name of Van Weldon and shaking, knocked at the front door. Within a few seconds he was greeted by a tall chubby man who eagerly invited him in.
"So, this is it eh my boy?" said the man quite gruffly who was infact Van Weldon.
"Yes, in its entirety. I ask that you please read carefully through it. It would do me a lot of honor if you considered putting it out for publication." said the man.
"Eh young man... I promised you I'd read it, did I not? Eh shit. Don't answer that. Look, I'll get reading this thing tonight and I'll let you know by next week or so what my decision is, ok?" said Van Weldon.
"Thank you sir. It's much appreciated."
"Ehh, don't worry son. You need to learn to lighten up a bit more ya know? Say, would you care for a drink?"
"No thank you Mr. Weldon. I must be going on my way." the man chuckled.
"Well, suit yourself then. Take care Christian."
"Thank you, and goodbye." he replied tipping his hat.
Christian rather enjoyed how the weather was turning out now that it was nearing the end of April. He still felt a little haggard from the winter, but assumed that maybe he was just ageing or recueperating from a never ending cold or something.
Something strange had happened to Christian and the town of Montmartre over the past few months. The town itself had gained alot of interest from newcomers who settled and took over the failing businesses.Overall, the town was beggining to look a little more like a friendlier place to live.
As far as Christian was concerned, his own change first took place the night of rescuing the young girl. It was almost like he had found his purpose of exhistance from that day on. He gave up the liquor and Absinthe pretty much alltogether and began writing again. He wrote pages upon pages of essays, stories and poetry which he later sold toFrench newspapers in return for money. With the money, he was capable of paying off his rent and buying some new clothes.
He still missed Satine with every part of his being, and quite frequently, woke many nights to the sound of her voice that he heard in the same reacurring dream. He could be anywhere and then out of nowhere something would remind him of her and he'd relapse temporarily. She was always on his mind, he couldn't help it. Sometimes he wished that he could be erased of all his memories of her just so he could live a normal life. It was almost like he was forced by a greater power to not give her up, or maybe, it was justhis own unwillingness.
Christian came to understand that he was stuck here on Earth, feeling, seeing, breathing, living until the very day he died. He was too scared to end his misery by suicide so he went on living every day with whatever would inspire him to do so.
For some peculiar reason, the young girl he met several months ago had unknowingly made herself his main motivation. Her painfull truthfullness had led him to want to be as far away from the repulsive man she so boldy claimed him to be.
He did often wonder what became of her; if she recovered from her fall allright, where she might've moved away to, if she was happy. Everytime he left his apartment and wandered the streets for his afternoon or evening walk, he looked at every face, hoping that just maybe, her dark eyes would pop out of the crowd and this time, accept him as a man of better character.
He didn't remember much of her, other than that she had dark brown eyes and hair that fell to her shoulders. She had full lips and was about a little less than half a foot shorter than him. In careful concentration he sat down on a bench and tried to recreate the image of the nameless girl in his mind. He could almost see her, standing there in all her youth, so innocent and pale. Only maybe this time she was a little more mature looking, not as thin, perhaps with a blush of soft red in her cheeks. Maybe she'd be carrying a parasol of lace while wearing a form fitting day dress of dark blue. Perhaps she would also have her dark auburn hair partially down under a merry widow's hat. Christian believed that he was actually building up a real-life image of this mystery girl, but he was dissapointed to find that it was only his mind playing tricks. He was focusing however, on a girl across the street who stood in front of a large set of store windows. Snapping back into reality, Christian noticed a similar likeness to this girl that he gazed upon. She did seem awfuly familiar and resembled quite a bit to the girl of his recent past.
Slowly he rose and began to stride across the street oblivious to that which was around him. A carriage stopped abruptly for him but Christian payed no attention. He neared closer to her letting the soft spring breeze guide him towards her. He stood in complete silence watching her every move. He made sure to notice how she blinked, how she walked, the way she cocked her head in curiosity at all that she saw. It had to be her, he thought.
It felt very much like time had stopped for Christian. He had not expected to ever see her again. And if in a small chance he would've, he had prepared nothing to say to the girl he so rudely treated before. Would she recognize him? What would she do if she knew it was him? Him , the same man who no more than 7 months ago emotionally crushed and criticized her so brutelly that she had to try and climb her way away from him?
He was within feet of her. This was his moment of truth. He waited until she stopped again to make a move. He watched as she paused, giving him the perfect oppertunity.
Before he could even mutter a simple hello, Christian accidently stepped on her dress giving it a slight tug which the wearer of it immidiatly took notice to. She turned around in wonder, and was caught off guard by Christian.
"Hello."he said.