The Eiffel Tower keychain felt jagged against my fingertips. I was thankful for the souvenir, but I was greedy and wanted more. Something that wasn’t tangible, like a memory or a scent.
I waited and waited. Years went by, and one day, there I was, looking at the actual Eiffel Tower in all of its glory. Cigarette smoke filled my lungs, making me even more delirious than I already was, and dirt enwreathed my boots, but my God, was she beautiful.
I know it’s nothing more than iron and rivets. However, a part of me wondered if this is what it’s like seeing your newborn child for the first time.
You conjure up an image before they make it earthside, imbuing all of your hopes and wishes into them, and that’s precisely what I had done with this fantasy before I set foot in France.
“Dreams do come true,” I whispered, staring longingly into the distance. But I guess I always knew that, though, didn’t I?
