The Chansonnier

He walked casually down the road, happy to have a moment to himself and the shade of the trees to cool his spirit. The party had been long, and though he was sure that all of the attendees thought themselves unique and special snowflakes, they acted exactly the same as all the other rich, white faces he’d encountered since his arrival in Paris, dull and entitled. It had been a last minute gig picked up as a favor to a friend. François had called him just a couple of hours before the party started with a nasty cough and desperation …

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