When it was 11pm she finally got out of her pyjamas, put on a body made out of lace fabric and cotton which she had bought in Budapest. Though she could have bought it anywhere really because it was from a big fashion chain store. Over it she wore a cheap white and black dress. White flowers on black background. It was Nagyis birthday, her Hungarian grandmother and one day after Pentecost: Whit Monday.
All the shops were closed, even Monoprix. She wanted to buy ice cream and so she decided to find some in the arabe du coin. The first one was deserted. The owner didn’t even notice her coming in. And they only had small cups, so she left, unseen. At another one she first saw a cat curled into a ball on a big stool next to the counter, no human in sight. In a small ice box there were single ice lollies. A man appeared from behind a curtain. She asked for big cups and the man indicated the freezer. She bought two big cups of Ben&Jerry’s, for multiple days…she told herself. The vendor had a warm voice and honestly thanked her for her purchase.
As she left the shop she smiled because she felt like the more you read and the more you live the more life becomes like your favourite books. The cat on the stool reminded her of the works of Haruki Murakami and Patti Smith. She thought of the monkey who serves a customer in one of his short stories. Then about that story in M Train where Smith writes that the shape of the Flat Iron Building made her crave pizza. She finds it funny and she loves that story. On the way up to the Sacre Coeur she feels how the ice cream begins to melt in her tote bag.
This day is a gift. From her grandmother. She feels a hopeful tingling. She walks by the place du Tertre which seems so small now compared to when her grandma watched her and her sister get their portrait done on a holiday in 2009. Remembering a photo booth she once spotted near there, she goes to find it. Four Eastern European girls crowd the booth. She feels a little odd taking her picture alone with this crowd waiting around.
The photos are ugly. The first one has her looking like a frightened deer on the road because she tried to go for a serious artsy look. The second is boring, the third looks like a promo headshot for a bad comedy film because she awkwardly smiles, one eyebrow raised slightly higher than the other. While taking the pictures she sensed that they were no good so for the last one she tries something to look more beautiful : she turns her head and so the last picture looks okay . Disappointed, the photo stripe still wet with chemicals she walks home fast. As she arrives she hears her neighbours fighting. When she opens the ice cream a large amount drops on the photos. Thoughtless and suffering from binge eating disorder she thoroughly licks off the ice cream. The next morning she is dead. It is no longer Pentecost.
P.S.: This ending may seem unlikely to some but I’ve been reading Carmen Maria Machado and this seems more than plausible.