Fabienne, Ma Mère

Fabienne, Ma Mère by Tess Scriptunas  Moments after meeting Fabienne, I found myself pressed against her sparrow-like form in the tiniest glass elevator I had ever seen. Deftly using the heel of her boot to keep my duffle bag upright, Fabienne chattered away in crisp, Parisian French. “So glad you’re here! I hope you like the apartment. The last student truly loved it. I’m so sorry, but I’m going away for the weekend—you don’t mind, do you? In fact, I’m […]

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