She pauses her ipod and decides to listen to the music from the streets instead – someone is playing the guitar across the road sitting on the steps of an old looking building she doesn't know the name of. Which is okay, she tells herself, she will find out one day soon. She'd asked for a table for one – un seul and the cute waiter (who was probably younger than her) gave her a sweet, almost mischievous smile. oh well, as long as it wasn't pity, she thinks.

Because alone, she has chosen to be. These 6 weeks which are her own; or 5 weeks and 2 days to be more precise. She had walked away from it all – the wonderful man, the fancy job, the loving family and the promises of the beautiful future she would have had. The promotion and the wedding were both looming ahead and while everyone marveled at the perfection that defined the current state of things, she was restless. She needed out – just to see if this is what she really wanted. It was hard to explain to them and if it hadn’t been for him, she wouldn’t have been able to. She just wanted out, she had said and he had understood. She did miss that – the instant understanding. Maybe that is what she wants.

The smiling waiter by her side snaps her back into reality and she places her order – a hot chocolate and a basket of croissants. Very cliché, very French. He serves her order and glances at the book on the table. Identity – by Milan Kundera, he smiles and tells her that the book was written in French. His French-English accent makes her smile for she has always been fond of their poetic, foreign way of speaking. She is even more amazed at the young man’s knowledge of the book. She learns that he is a student at one of the Grand Lycees and has decided to spend his summer waiting on tables, enjoying the small town simplicity and write his thesis – away from his home and usual life. And what about her? She pauses for a second and wonders what she wants to be today? A writer? A teacher? A prostitute? She decides to be a journalist today. It has a nice ring to it, she thinks. And with that and a bright smile, she spins an intricate web of lies to create a story of her life. A new one.

That’s what she loves about these 6 weeks and anonymity. She can be anyone, anywhere and live her life as that for a day, or few if she likes it and write the story as she pleases. And re-write it every morning if she chooses.

She is, deep inside, a story teller after all.