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"What did you say your name was?"

"Allyson," I hear myself say as if fro hi an old pocket watch on a chain

I’ the intense sharpness of it against my back, the ease hich Willem hoisted me onto it The table is, as it was then, meticulously clean, the neat pile of papers, the half-finished pieces in the corner, the rab for the pens

"That’s my pen!"

"I’rab the pen out of the cup The Rollerball, inscribed BREATHE EASY WITH PULMOCLEAR "This isat me, perplexed But he doesn’t understand The pen was inI had it on the barge I wrote double happiness with it And then the next day, when I was on the phone with Ms Foley, it was gone

"Last su soht He said that squats will do that" I pause Van nods slightly "But no one was here Except a as open So we slept here, in your studio, and when I woke up the next one"

I wait for Van to get upset about our trespassing, but he is looking atthe Pulmoclear pen in my hand like it’s a sword "This pen was in one and now it’s here, and I’"

Van’s face re before, and now again, but then I see soht before a sunrise, as sonition illue of his nose

"I did find so list"

"A shopping list?"

"It said so about, aboutI don’t recall, perhaps chocolate and bread?"

"Chocolate and bread?" Those were Willem’s staple foods My heart starts to pound

"I don’t ree I had been away for holiday, and when I ca was disarrayed I disposed of it I’m so sorry" He looks stricken

We snuck into his studio, uilty

"No, don’t be sorry This is so helpful Would there have been any reason for a shopping list to be in here? I ht you have written it?"

"No And if I did, it would not have contained bread and chocolate"

I smile at that "Could the list have been, maybe, a note?"

"It is possible"

"We were supposed to have bread and chocolate for breakfast And my pen is here"

"Please, take your pen"

"No, you can have the pen," I say, and out escapes a whoop of laughter A note Could he have left me a note?

I throw my arms around Van, who stiffens for a moment in surprise but then relaxes into ood, and he smells nice, like oil paint and turpentine and dust and old wood--s from that day, are stitched into the fabric oftime, this doesn’t seem like a curse

When I leave Van, it’s mid-afternoon The Oz crew is probably still at the Rodin Museum; I couldelse I go to the nearest Metro station and close my eyes and spin around and then I pick a stop I land on Jules Joffrin and then I figure out the series of trains that will takeneighborhood, lots of narrow, uphill streets and everyday shops: shoe stores, barbershops, little neighborhood bars Ithe feeling of being lost Eventually, I come across a broad staircase, carved into the steep hillside, forreen foliage hanging down on either side I have no idea where the stairs lead I can practically hear Willem’s voice: All the more reason to take them

So I do And take the than I find another set of stairs At the top of the stairs, I cross a small cobblestoned medieval street and then, boom, it’s like I’ coaches and sardine-packed cafés, and an accordion player doing Edith Piaf covers

I follow the crowds around the corner, and at the end of a street full of cafés advertising e white-domed cathedral

"Excusez- outside of one of the cafés

He rolls his eyes "C’est Sacré-Coeur!"

Oh, Sacré-Coeur Of course I walk closer and see three doning regal over the rooftops of Paris In front of the cathedral, which is glowing golden in the afternoon sun, is a grassy hillside esplanade, bisected bydown the other side of the hill There are people everywhere: the tourists with their video ca in the sun, artists with easels out, young couples leaning into each other, whispering secrets Paris! Life!