67. Doc Martens

Abigail Hayes

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“Baby, Abby.” I heard George’s muffled voice through my nap. “We’ve arrived.” He tapped me gently and I got up from the bed. After what we had done the last few hours, I was knocked out so I slept off. George had told me we were going to be arriving by dawn and it was better to sleep now if I didn’t want to be jet lagged, so I listened to him. I was tired anyway.

I rubbed my hands all over my face, trying to wash off the sleep. We finally arrived at our destination, Paris. I had bugged George a lot before he finally told me where we were headed.

“Can I have a glass of water? I requested. I had never been to Paris before and I didn’t want to feel tired when stepping out of the plane.

“Sure,” George responded and poured water from the bottle into a glass cup.

“Thanks,” I said as he handed it to me. After drinking to my satisfaction, I was ready to leave. The plane had already landed. “I’m ready to go.” I picked up my bag and we walked hand in hand to the entrance of