Chapter XIII: Once
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The next day, a few ash grey clouds began to roll in from the north-west, leaving the city of London cast in soft ocher rays of sun that managed to penetrate the thick wall of stratus fleece.
Fidèle meandered down the busy city sidewalk, her skirt swaying at her lower calves.
She twirled the dull gold chain of her necklace around her finger and fiddled with the zinc grey stone in the pendant.
There was a sudden swish as a tall, thin figure in a dull merlot colored trench coat with the collar turned up and a dark brown satin top hat.
“Excuse me, Mademoiselle.”
They mumbled, tipping their hat to her slightly without looking at her.
She paused for a moment, watching them walk away with strange criss-crossing steps.
She hurried after them and tugged slightly at the sleeve of their coat.
“Pardon me, but do I know you?”
He turned his head to look down at her, a wide, stiff smile plastered on his scarred face that didn’t quite reach his eyes as he looked over her face.
“Oh dear… maybe… once.”
He replied hesitantly.
“You do look dreadfully familiar.”
“You look like a friend I used to have… though I don’t quite remember what he looked like if I am completely honest.”
Fidèle remarked.
“What is your name, Monsieur?”
“I am Poète.”
Her head snapped up.
“Poète… where have you been?!”
He chuckled.
“I’ve been here… waiting.”
He cleared his throat.
“Oh dear! Come, come! I have people for you to meet.”
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