It was a very small lift and the lady was rather large.
“I am Canadian, you know.”
“Oui, so you speak French.”
“Well, I think I do but all the locals here hate my accent.”
“They are such snobs.”
“I don’t care. This is my first time in Paris. It’s amazing!”
The lift bumped its way to the top floor.
He lost his balance and his tall skinny frame gently bounced off her.
“I am so sorry.”
“What are you sorry for, honey?” she said, smiling at him.
“I didn’t mean to bump into you.”
“I am not objecting.”
He laughed. This was absurd.
As they wandered down the corridor together, he contemplated asking her in for a nightcap.
“It seems I am next to you.”
“Yes. I hope you sleep well.”
“And you. Goodnight.”
It had been a warm day and the stuffiness of the room hit him as he went in. No air conditioning – again!
He sighed and threw open the doors to the balcony. Feeling a bead of sweat running down his back, he stripped off and turned off the lights. Then he poured himself a whisky and wandered back through the open doors.
He was standing on the balcony, sipping the whisky and enjoying the cool breeze when his eye was caught by a movement to his left.
There she was: glass in hand, in all her glory.
“I should have invited you in for a nightcap.”
“I am not objecting.”
*
“I do like Paris.”
“It is an enchanting city. Though, I’ve never seen many large people there.”
“The French do eat so well.”
“So do large people.”
“Oh, Maude,” said Mabel, “I wasn’t being rude.”
“Larger people do know how to have fun. – I wonder, though. Do these things ever happen?”
“What things?”
“People bumping into each other in lifts?”
“People bump into each other all the time. Lifts just make the conversation easier.”