“Let me get that for you…” She said as she maneuvered herself round to kneel behind me, her knees splayed gently to rest either side of my feet ...hat were curled under my legs. She ran her fingers through my hair, collecting it at the top of my head and tying it in a lose knot. I closed my eyes and caught my breath at her touch. As she ran her fingers back down my neck she began to massage my shoulders, working her thumbs up underneath my hairline. I let out an audible sigh, hardly believing I. Today as the train slid from the Gare de Lyon through the southern suburbs gathering speed, Helen wrote up a report on her laptop and settled into her chair.After Theo's death, Helen had left Stuttgart and moved to Paris, continuing to work for the same architectural firm, expanding her experience in designing and building recreational spaces. She found an attractive apartment in the Sixième that had the glassy studio style famous from the days of starving artists in the 19th and early 20th. More

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