I open my eyes again. This is strange. "Françoise," I utter. "What?" "We won't fuck today." She opens her eyes again. "Is that a question?"-"No." She looks into my eyes, and asks "Why not? No rubber?" I kiss her forehead and reply "It's not that. I think that this is enough. It's a new feeling. Sex would just turn it into lust." "OK," she says, "Lunch?" I smile, and agree.

I get dressed, get my coat, take her hand, and go outside. "I want a kebab," she says, "That stand's the best. Hey, Ahmed!" I look towards the stand. A standard stand, here in Marseille, plain, with a green tarp, and some stupid name. Ahmed looks at us. He's balding, with glasses, with olive skin. The place reminds me a lot of Mexico City's taquerías, who became so similar to these that even their owners look exactly the same. "Hi, Fran, how many do you guys want?" "Two, with fries please." As I eat, I look around. I still have no idea how I got here. "Where are we?" I ask, "We're in the 9th" she answers. I sigh with relief, it's a safe place, and I can get home quickly.

Françoise looks at me, and out of nowhere says "I think you should go home." Surprised, I ask "Why? I thought we were having a good time." "We are, but I really think you should leave." I look at her, puzzled, and ask "Well, can I at least have your number?" "No." We look each other in the eye for a while. I kiss her, for the first time, and leave.