First Time Fire: The Redhead’s Apartment Surrender
That half-empty apartment across from the bustling café. Friday night, May heat sticking shirts to skin. I’m Hervé, hauling my own damn furniture, pretending to be one of the crew. She brings the beers and sandwiches—Éliane, tall, lean, red hair framing that killer smile. Thirtyish, muscled from waitressing. We chat. I tip big, tell her…