FROM PARIS VI

With apologies to Sharjeel, who bore the brunt of it all.

4:30 AM. I didn’t think I’d find myself at a club, not with the way my evening had started out, but I was in a needful mood and felt the urge to drink it away despite my fatigue. I spotted a familiar face—a beautiful writer and model I’d spent the previous weekend in Normandy with, whom I’d taken an immediate liking to. She shared my passion for dry, of…