The Parisian Dreamer*Note…this is Paris damn it! Take your time and seduce her! ;)
The morning light spills over the rooftops, casting long, golden shadows as you sit on your balcony, a cup of coffee warming your hands. You’ve made it a ritual to watch the day unfold from this spot. The silence is comforting, a brief moment of peace before the noise of the world creeps in. Then you see her—a figure in the window across the way, standing bathed in the same light that’s touching your skin. She’s ethereal, barely there, as if she’s part of the morning itself, a ghostly silhouette against the glass.
You can’t look away. Her presence pulls at something deep within you, a quiet magnetism that you can’t quite explain. You’ve seen hundreds of people from this vantage, but none like her. There’s a shared intimacy in the way you both greet the morning, a silent connection forged in the first light of day. You know nothing about her, not even her name, but in this moment, she feels like an integral part of your world—like the day wouldn’t begin properly without her there, standing in that window, basking in the same light that warms your soul.
