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“You don’t need moderation. You look great.” He is shameless. “What’s the
name of the bakery?” I ask to steer the conversation away

from anything capable of pissing me off.

“La Petite Mort.” She smiles at me with a wicked glint in her eyes.

All the blood in my body rushes to the NSFW organ. Oh fuck, I get it now.
The stripes, the red lips, the slightly messy hair. I inspired her for her theme. A
French girl.

I receive a text message written in French after she leaves.

Sanya: Joyeux anniversaire! Je vous souhaite plein de bonheur en cette
journée spéciale. Que tous vos désirs se réalisent.

Henri: Did you mean to tell me my fly was down? Sanya: Very funny.
That’s not what it says.

Henri: You know French now? Sanya: Nope, the internet does.

Sanya: It’s supposed to say: Happy Birthday! I wish you every happiness
on this special day. May all your wishes come true.

Henri: It does, just fucking with you. Sanya: You like fucking with me.

She will know just how much if everything goes my way.