A night in Paris by Mike Gregory

Is there a sense of déjà vu here? Can this really be true? I have no idea what the heck is happening at all. Why are people staring at me in that way? Okay, that makes no sense at all. Now consider Jack's motivation for being here. Where are we exactly? How am I supposed to understand why I am here when I have no idea where I am? Wow, this is going to be more difficult than I anticipated. Avoid making eye contact when looking around. Who is this stunning blonde woman who is approaching me and glancing in my direction? Don't worry; she's only getting closer. Okay, she's coming. "Jack, are you ok?" the enigmatic blonde woman asks. You appear little flushed.

My alarm buzzes, waking me up. It's time to get up and start the day at 6:00 a.m. Get out of bed, stretch, breathe deeply, and sip on a cup of ice-cold water. I'm in a hotel, hold on. I don't know why I'm here; am I drunk? I don't feel hungover at all. I'm in France; look out the window; there's the Eiffel Tower. That surprised me; why am I in France? Maybe it will come back to you after you take a shower.
A night in Paris by Mike Gregory

A morning shower like that is wonderful; I feel so rejuvenated. I had the impression that I was being washed in a dishwasher with a human cycle and a steam finish in that shower because of the water spraying in all directions and the steam coming from the floor. What should I wear? Examine the dresser drawers now. Excellent, thank goodness we have blue boxer briefs and black socks. We have blue jeans from Lucky Brand in the second row drawer as well as a great white t-shirt from John Varvatos. I'm pleased with my refined taste. Pay attention, brush your teeth, apply deodorant, spritz some fragrance, put some sculpting creme in your hair, brush it, and part your hair to the left.

Now search the space for any hints as to why I might be in France. What do you currently remember, Jack? I recall a stunning blonde woman who was speaking to me and recognized me. She was who? What then transpired? Was I with her here? Why can't I recall who she is? Jack, stop being so distracted and let's have a look around. Since she isn't here at the moment, let's look in the other drawers to see if there are any further clothes. Not at all, just what seems to be mine. Is there anything on the table? A note, indeed. What does it say? "Jack, please join me for dinner at Frame Brasserie at 8 PM. XOXO A ” Who is A, to begin with? How do

When was the time? I think I might be feeling hungry, so let's check what the hotel has to offer. I appear to be on the top floor—specifically, the seventh story. Ding, the door opens. I step outside and turn to look around when I notice the man working the front desk smiling at me. How did your sleep go, Monsieur Jack? Enjoy Paris today and have a fantastic day. I simply nod my head and say, "Wonderful, thank you." Let's get out of here quickly before he tries to start a discussion. Next, a cup of coffee.

There is a tiny cafe. Can I please have a table outside? Of course, monsieur, are you expecting more guests?" the hostess responds. I reply incoherently, "Nope, just me please." Okay, everyone appears

At my table, a man is seated in front of me and is giving me a blank look. Can I assist you? I ask. "Jack, you're in danger. Pay your bill and meet me outside," he replies. There isn't much time, so move quickly. He publicly apologizes to the man and instantly stands up and leaves.

At this point, I'm already perplexed and scared, but what comes next was even more unpredictable. Two hefty men in suits get up from the table in the corner and start approaching in my direction. Now that I'm worried, I put some money down on the table; I'm not even sure if it's enough, but I get up and begin to go. They never even avert their eyes from me when I glance back. What the heck is this? What shall I do? Why are they targeting me? They don't stop and knock down the waiter who steps in front of them. Now that I am aware of their intentions, I start to run and escape via the door. The person seated at my table pulls out.

"Hurry up," I shout to the driver, "they are right behind us." He turns to face me and I can see that he is afraid, but he says nothing. That's bad, I thought to myself. He's cruising around, making it seem as like he truly knows these streets. They haven't missed a beat, so it appears that they are familiar with them as well when I look back. Then I hear an audible BANG and POP. The men shot at the back tire of our Vespa. We lose control and go off course. We slide on the ground, hitting a food cart, and my shirt and jeans become torn and scratched. Everywhere there is flight. I'm in pain. My entire side aches. What these guys want from me is not something I want to know.

I notice a police officer over there, so I swiftly approach him. I don't know why two men are pursuing me, but I'm very sure one of them just killed a man over there. He just looks at me without saying anything, then he peeks over my shoulder and makes a loud bang. The police officer was shot in the head by one of the men pursuing me. Not so quick, Jack, he says, grabbing my shirt in his hands. She's awaiting your arrival. who she is Why is she asking this of me? Is she the blonde I recognize? He does not respond; instead, he leads me to a black automobile that is standing still on the street. He knocks me to the ground and gets in beside.
What's going on, I ask them as I turn to face them. I don't comprehend anything about this. No response. I suppose all I can do is wait and see. Then, after a while, the throbbing begins. I had cuts on my left side from sliding on the ground, which I completely forgot about. I tell them, "Thanks to you, I took a terrible tumble back there, and I think I need a doctor." Only a half-grin from the man seated next to me was his only answer.

We approach a structure; is that the Frame Brasserie, I hear you ask? The note instructed them to meet there. They drag me to what appears to be an unmarked building after crossing the street. They let a lot of people in after opening the door. This is what? It appears to be some upscale clothing store with a lounge and just about anything you could want. He pulls me to a couch, and as I glance up, I see a "A" that distinctly resembles the one on the message in my room written on the wall. A doctor approaches, examines me, treats my wounds, and patches me up as needed. He was silent throughout.

Everyone is occupied, so why is there no conversation? A waiter approaches me and brings me a fine, neat bourbon. So I might as well savor it now while I can and down it quickly. Another quickly provided. Two women approach me and pull me in the direction of a room. They lead me inside and show me to the bathroom, which strangely resembles the one I used while staying there. Does the restroom have a window while I take a shower and the women remain outside? Can I go away? Naturally, there isn't a window. When is it now? Oh, wait, my phone is still here; I can contact the police. I pull out my clothes and grab them.
It's ten to eight, time for your appointment, the big man announces. My heart begins to beat quickly and forcefully. I completely overlooked how the message advised not to arrive late for the meeting at the nearby restaurant. We begin to cross, and as we do, I look about and consider whether I might be able to flee. The large man simply shakes his head while grabbing my shoulder. That notion is over. The host welcomes me and gestures for me to proceed to my table, saying, "Have a seat right here and the madam will be here shortly."

I start to scan the area but avoid making eye contact. That is this stunning blonde woman who is approaching me while glancing in my direction? Don't worry; she's only getting closer. Okay, she's coming. "Hello Jack, I know you must be perplexed," she says. Abigail is my name. You are in a unique location. You suffered a tragic accident on your Vespa while on vacation in Paris, during which you passed away. The issue is that, while you were living, you weren't a good person. You will spend all of eternity here now that I have your soul. repeating this action. This is the afterlife. Then the enigmatic blonde woman asks Jack, "Are you alright? You appear little flushed.

Post a Comment