I woke up to another empty bed this morning. This is not an unusual thing, and normally it’s not even a problem. I don’t even think about it most of the time. However, this morning was different. I didn’t wake until my alarm went off, and as I lay there, thinking about the lyrics to the song (Le Festin), becoming increasingly anxious about my upcoming trip to Paris. 

To say that I’m looking forward to it would be an understatement. I need to get away. This misery that I’ve been so comfortably settled in is becoming an increasing source of madness. 

Paris is the place that I run to hide from my problems and my past. I know this. It’s the only place that I feel safe enough to let my guard down. Almost no one knows me there. Oh, some will recognize my name and occupation, but for the most part, I’m just able to be myself and wander. Aimless, free. 

Just two weeks and change. In the meantime, I have some cases to finish up and a few more interviews to handle. My new agent seems busy, which is both good and taxing. The one I had just yesterday, they…

They asked about White Chapel.

At first I thought they were making a reference to the White Chapel murders but, no… they… they were legitimately asking about the academy. How or why I don’t know. The recent press for the trial, perhaps? I suppose it was suspicious that I turned up in London unannounced but why should they…? And in Japan, of all things. None of that was printed here. 

My agent assures me that he is just as confused as I am. 

I need a break. I need Paris. I need to clear my head of all of this nonsense.