Tu es parfaite

The title is French for 'you're perfect'.

So, this is the story about a girl named Zoé who lives in her shared home with her fiancé on the streets of Paris. People whisper amongst themselves about her beauty when she passes them by. But she doesn't know that.
Read on to find out what happens!

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1. ~1

This is the story of my struggles and insecurities. I lived in the streets of Paris, and I was pretty average. 

Like most people, I had a regular kind of appearance. Straight, brown hair that hung at my shoulders. My eyes were a kind of green that immediately draws attention to them. My body was a not-too-chubby, not-too-skinny, yet somewhat tall kind of figure shape. But like most people, I didn't believe them. 

What didn't I believe?

I had been told more than once that I was beautiful. I wondered if people really meant it when they said it, though. I didn't feel beautiful. I felt talentless, not beautiful. If anything, I felt average. Normal. Ugly. 

Other people looked beautiful. Those girls that passed me by in a mad rush, desperate to get to their classes on time. They all looked different. They may have blonde hair, or blue eyes, or tight curls that bounced when they walked or.....

No. It hurt too much to think about it. To think about those better than me. To think about those more beautiful than me. To think of those more perfect than me. 

Another day at work had passed, and I was walking home in the light snow, guided by the street lights that lit the path. I could see the Eiffel Tower, glistening in the darkness above my house. I flung the door open, assuming my fiancé, Marc, had left the door unlocked when he came home. 

"Marc!'' I called, as the door hit the wall with a loud thud. 

''Here, Zoé!'' came the familiar voice from behind the kitchen door. 

I trailed into the kitchen, thankful that it was a Friday night. I hugged Marc and he kissed my forehead lightly. 

''How was work, baby?'' he asked. 

''The normal.'' I shrugged, sitting down at the kitchen bench. He set down a coffee cup and slid it across the table towards me.

''Thanks.'' I said, as I took a sip of the coffee. The warmth spread throughout my body quickly, and the icy hands of the falling snow seemed to lose their grip on me. 

I rugged myself up and went to sit outside with Marc. I watched as the snow fell on the ground like a stainless white sheet. I snuggled beside Marc, his arm wrapped around my shoulders. I watched the millions of fairy lights that coated the Eiffel Tower twinkle innocently. I watched as snow fell upon the few people that walked past in a hurried daze, eager to get home and see their families. I watched as time passed by, and wished that this moment would never end. 

Why? Because I was with the man I loved. Because I felt safe. Because momentarily, I forgot about all my problems. I forgot about the struggles of work, of daily life, and of insecurities. I didn't want this moment to end, because I knew that tomorrow, I was going to wake up and feel like plain old me again. 

 

 

 

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