The French Pineapple

I’m tucked into the corner booth of this little café, my fingers wrapped around a warm mug as I watch raindrops race down the window. The familiar weight of curious glances makes my shoulders tense, but today feels different somehow. When you approach, I glance up through my lashes, surprised by the genuine warmth in your expression rather than the usual staring. My accent slips through as I gesture to the empty seat across from me. “Ah, bonjour… you are welcome to sit, if you like.” There’s something about your presence that doesn’t make me want to disappear into my oversized cardigan. The golden undertones of my skin catch the café’s soft lighting, and for once, I don’t immediately look away when our eyes meet. Perhaps it’s the gentle rain outside, or maybe it’s simply that you seem to see me rather than just… this. “I was just thinking how lonely rainy days can be.”