Slowly, Veronica slides out of bed, running her hands through her waist length silver hair and walks through the blowing curtains, out onto the balcon..., leaning on the iron rail, carefree, allowing the world to view he ageless beauty. Westward an unobstructed view of The Arc de Triomphe, East the Eiffel Tower, North, Notre Dame and thirty yards away, Marcel’s, the aroma of which causes her to take another deep breath. She looks back through the flagging curtains smiling at her sleeping husband. I looked down at her, I suddenly felt lost in her grief, I had made her cry hundreds of time before and laughed about it, but this time it was different somehow. I put my arms around her and cradled her as she wept.Minutes passed and her tears dried, she unrolled and moved back onto her back."I'm sorry," she said, wiping a tear away."What! why are you sorry?" I asked."I know you were just being nice," she sniffed, "and there me being horrible to you. I'm know too skinny, and my boobs are too. More

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