Unfortunately for me, the Falafel came back 3 hours later to haunt the hell out of me. No last romantic dinner in Paris with Steve. I spent the night curled on the couch, double up in pain. What had I done to offend Him so? Why smite me on my very last day? Why me? Why me?
Now it is early morning and me thinks I hear chickens in the neighborhood. Seriously. Some birds are squawking up a raucous. I've got packing to do. Steve took care of his last night as I lay unconscious, grateful for the black darkness.
We'll walk through a few streets to the Rue du Rivoli, where we can catch a taxi to the train station. Off to Avignon, rent a car, travel to our farmhouse where we'll be for the next week. Other than last night, it's been grand.
Au Revoir, Paris. Au Revoir, La Marais. Let's get together again, shall we?