I decided to visit the Champs-Elysées today. I wanted to do some shopping and visit some more landmarks before I left. Maybe take a few photographs. My mother had bought me a new digital camera for Christmas and I’d barely gotten any use out of it, even on this trip.

Sitting on the metro on the way to the17th arrondissement, I turned on my camera and looked through the few pictures I’d taken in Paris so far. I was surprised to find that I had only taken one picture; I could have sworn I’d taken more.

The only picture on the memory card was the one of the Eiffel Tower and me from behind, my long brown hair filling the bottom right-hand side of the frame.

I tried not to remember that day, my first day in Paris. But the memories came, unbidden. Uncaring.

After checking into my hotel, I was still feeling antsy from being cooped up on a plane for so many hours, so I decided to do some walking.

I’d found myself at the Eiffel Tower, pulled to it as if by some magnet.

Not knowing I’d be pulled to him, too.