De straf van Anne

When I saw Claire again for the first time that summer, it was at a party given by, oh, let's say the exes near the Place de la Concorde.

The entire summer had been lovely, but that evening was particularly beautiful.

I was late, as usual. Normally, I detest literary cocktail parties, as anyone who attends them regularly should, if he has any self-respect at all.

I had just come out of a long siege with a short story. A short story that had enormous resistance to being completed.

And, had I to be totally honest, I would confess that I was genuinely pleased to be once more among the living.