I love it here. Rue de This, Rue de That, Art Deco unlimited. But they let their dogs poop everywhere.
My shoes were Aldo. Ruined now. “Foutre vous!“
A voice protests. Not a dog mom; just some neighborhood nag yelling French things at me.
She is too fast, too loud, my Google français useless.
What’s wrong, is my face too Delhi?
Dress = Zara, jacket = Mango, bag = LV. My fashion’s on point for ze woman, I think.
I let her get closer. Let her see my pearls. She has two of her own.
I sigh, adjust my hijab, and take off my shoes.