Not relief.
Just… empty.
A quiet, echoing absence where a feeling should have been.
And as the river kept moving and my phone stayed silent in my hand, a thought settled into me with uncomfortable clarity. I had become very, very good at filling space.
With work. With people. With plans. With motion.
But I had no idea how to actuallystayinside any of it.
Not the city.
Not my relationships.
Not even myself.
I sat there until my legs went numb, letting Paris exist around me without participating, wondering when exactly I’d learned how to be everywhere and nowhere at the same time.
From Rachel’s Diary:
Apparently there was a fall break.
I realized that yesterday when someone mentioned classes starting again and I had to think about it. I just… worked through it. Fewer classes meant more time with René, more assignments, more wandering the city with the camera.
I’m not sure if that’s dedication or a warning sign.
November 1st was Toussaint. All Saints’ Day. Everything closed, the city quieter than usual. I ended up near Père Lachaise without realizing what day it was and walked straight into families visiting graves—flowers everywhere, candles, people standing in small circles talking softly like the dead might be listening.
I should have turned around.
Instead I took photos.
Tried to not be invasive. Still, it felt like stepping into someone else’s memory with a camera.
Armistice Day is coming next week. I’ve heard the ceremonies here are something else entirely—bells, silence, the whole city pausing.
Part of me can’t wait to see it through the lens.
Which makes me feel strange when I remember Thanksgiving is coming too.
One holiday I want to photograph. The other one I’m not sure I even care about.
Sometimes I hate myself.
Chapter
Twenty-Four
RACHEL
It started as a normal day.
Which, for me lately, meant nothing was actually normal—just a series of small fires I’d gotten good at walking past without stopping.
I woke up before my alarm, stared at the ceiling, and felt that familiar panic-pulse ofwhat did I forget?ripple through my body like it was a reflex instead of a thought.
The apartment was still too quiet.
