Quotes, not books nor movies

Dolloped with a spoonful of puckery crème fraîche, tarte Tatin doesn’t dally with small talk: it reaches for your leg under the table. And so did G. When we kissed on the dark street outside, his mouth was cold and delicious, like no fruit I’d ever tasted.

But of course, there would soon be much crying.

I can’t help but wonder how things might have been if I hadn’t had a plane ticket and a tangled tongue, or if he hadn’t been eighteen and afraid. I still dream about that bed under the eaves, and some nights I think I hear our perfectly formed French-American children twittering like birds between the rafters. But mainly I just put on my stilettos and bake tarte Tatin. After all, you can never be too prepared for the next one."