Short story: For my dear Eugene

Lyon, May 10, 1900

My dear Eugene,

Your letter has reached my hands like a spring breeze, carrying with it the scent of the streets of Paris and the echo of your voice. Every word you have written has been a balm to my soul, a reminder of the sweet promise of our love.

Here, in Lyon, life goes on as quietly as ever, but since you left, a veil of melancholy has covered the city. The flowers seem less colorful, and the Rhone River flows with a murmur that seems to whisper your name. Despite the beauty that surrounds me, without you, everything seems incomplete.

The nights are the hardest, Eugene. I go to bed thinking of you, imagining the lights of Paris reflected in your eyes. I wonder if the moon over Paris is as beautiful as the one shining over Lyon. In my dreams, I walk beside you through the bustling streets, my hand in yours, exploring together the secrets of the city of love.

Your descriptions of the Exposition Universelle and the wonders of the Lumière brothers have left me longing - how I wish I could see those images in motion with you, share the awe and excitement of such breakthroughs! But even more, I long for the day when I can see the world through your eyes, discover every wonder at your side.

Your absence is a shadow that looms over my heart, but your love is the light that guides me. I hold the hope that I will soon be with you, that our souls will be reunited in an embrace that will know no end. Until then, I hold on to the vision of our future together, a future filled with love and joy.

I look forward to the day when you will write to me with good news, the day when you will tell me that the time has come for us to be united in Paris. Until then, I carry you always in my heart, in every thought, in every heartbeat.

With all the love a letter can contain,

Anais.

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