I was standing by the staircase at Silverbird Galleria after a movie. Helen and I were gisting about what most 21st century girls gist about in their mid-twenties. I had not noticed Elvis until he got quite close to us. “Mademoiselle …”, he began. I stopped talking and looked at him. Helen cleared her throat and excused herself to take a look at some jewellery nearby.
We had been friends a while and she had gotten used to being completely ignored when men walked up to me. She wasn’t ugly though. In fact, in some environments, she was actually beautiful but standing beside me was, I dare say, like the moon, as beautiful as it is, standing beside the sun. Please forgive me Helen. I love you. Mmuah!
“Monsieur” I responded in the little French I knew wondering whether he would keep speaking French. His French must have been flawless from the way he pronounced Madmoiselle. He was definitely attractive and could have made a fortune just toasting girls for a fee (from the girls themselves). “How was your flight?” “Sorry…” I was actually stammering. Unbelievable. “How was your flight, ma belle dame?”
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