The sky is simply lit by the stars. The streets are quiet, with the exception of muffled voices coming from the café. The lights are dim and yellow, but the café is brightened and brought to life by the people. They are laughing, eating, and having conversations. The waiters are serving food, filling up water, and taking orders, all with a smile on their face. Only a few people remain on the streets, some are walking home and some are just beginning their evening, but everyone appears at peace on this clear Parisian night. 

There is faint music coming from the square just around the buildings, everyone seems to have someone. Everyone but Timothée. He sits alone, his back to the rest of the tables so he doesn’t have to stare at all the couples, families, and friends. So he doesn’t have to be reminded that he has none of those. Timothée moved to Paris a month ago in hopes for a fresh start, for something new. The last month he has seen amazing things, done amazing things, and met amazing people, yet none of them stayed in his life for more than a day. Timothée works in fashion, hence why Paris was the perfect place for him to be. He met his coworkers on his second day in Paris. While they were nice, they also had a slight hint of a parisian stuck-up attitude; something a lot of French people hated about Paris. Timothée was warned about this attitude before he left Menton, France, his home for twenty years. 

Timothée sat and watched the people passing by the café for hours, every Friday since he’s been in Paris. He notices the regulars, people who seem to have it in their routine to walk the same streets at the same time every Friday. He sees the ones who are in love, the tourists here on their honeymoon or the locals who just needed a night out. He finds the most amusement in watching the Americans who don’t speak a word of French try to navigate the streets, and read the signs. Timothée has even let out a quiet chuckle a few times when the Americans ask for help, and the French act as if they don’t know any English. But it's Paris, everyone knows English. Although there have been many people Timothée has enjoyed observing for the last four Fridays, there has been only one special person he couldn’t keep his eye off of if he tried.  

He looks for her in the window of the jewelry store located right across the street from where he sits. He has decided she must work there because every Friday, at six o’clock Timothée see’s her turn off the lights and lock the door behind her. She then starts to make her way toward the square where Timothée loses sight of her, but he imagines her dancing and laughing with her friends. Her brown hair bouncing off her broad shoulders as she skips around the square in her flowy summer dress. Timothée can hear her short heels clicking on the concrete as she runs to join the dancing. He can see her brown eyes light up as they play her favorite song. As the music fades, Timothée imagines her leaving the square and heading to the bars that surround the area. Of course he doesn’t know if any of this is actually true, because Timothée is too scared to talk to her. 

As the night lingers on, Timothée contemplates taking a walk near the square. Everytime he thinks about getting another glimpse of her, he gets butterflies. Eventually, Timothée has to leave, like every Friday the café closes at eight and the workers begin clearing the tables. Unlike every Friday, Timothée decides tonight is the night, and he walks toward the square. In the square there are people dancing and drinking, just as he suspected. He scans the crowd to see if he can find her, but no luck, so he walks into the chaos. Timothée isn’t one to party, and he certainly isn’t one to dance but when he gets pulled into the crowd he finds himself in the middle of the dance floor. He frantically looks for a way out. He feels a hand on his shoulder, it was a girl but not the one he’s looking for. This girl had blonde hair and fair skin, freckles painted across her face and crystal clear blue eyes. This was the moment Timothée realized he might not be in love, just lonely. 

“Excuse-moi, monsieur, are you okay?” The girl asks.

“Oh oui merci, I am just looking for a way out,” he replies with a shaky voice.

“Why would you want to leave? The night is so young.” Her eyes really were beautiful; Timothée got lost in them as her gaze met his. 

“I don’t really like to dance, I was just looking for someone” 

“Well, I don’t believe that, everyone likes to dance.” 

That's when the girl took Timothée's hand and they danced. He was awkward at first, but eventually he let the music guide him. In that moment Timothée forgot about his job, his lonely life in Paris, the café he sits at every Friday, even the girl from the jewelry store. The only thing he could think about was how he didn’t feel so lonely anymore.