1617: x

Gilles refolded Aimée’s letter carefully.  His anger was not assuaged, only redirected and focused now on Madame. Only now, Aimée was redeemed. “Semper fidelis,” he murmured. “What is that?” asked the man who shared the table with him. He picked up the wine bottle and tried to fill his glass only to spill more on … Continue reading 1617: x