Sunny morning, hot coffee, clean bed.
Je ne regrette.
Spilled my coffee.
Throw on lipstick, black heels, and a big hat.
Edith Piaf is my soundtrack today.
Pick up a newspaper, maybe a baguette and flowers.
Or en lavender. Muddled up like the English, brushed it off like the French. Drinking un café instead of ‘a coffee’, this morning suddenly tastes sophisticated. I calmly linger in a disguise of chic.