Roseanne sat at the table below the magnificent tower in the city of love. With a sketchpad and pencil in hand, she searched for a muse; something, someone to draw. She's been stuck in the same blank page for weeks, sipping her coffee, she let out a long sigh, another day of disappointment. 

After several minutes, she stood up and walked her way home. You'll find what you need soon, Roseanne. She reminded herself as she took a deep breath.

She walked the bustling street of Rue de l'Annonciation, greeting every vendor she knew, she made quite some friends. She loves Paris, she never wants to leave, maybe everyone felt the same, people filled the streets of Paris everyday, and this day was no different. Roseanne walked amongst the crowd as she looked at her new book, she was hoping to get something close to a children's book or a cookbook, something to read while she waited for a muse, but this book caught her attention, its fully detailed cover made it look like it was handmade, she wasn't sure if she'd read it, though. She never understood the words of poets, they were too deep or too bland, some were worthwhile, others made her regret reading; nonetheless, the process is intriguing, how they put together complicated words into a marvelous narrative. Roseanne felt envious, how everyone seems to figure everything out, while she remains running around, looking for something that isn't there. She stopped and held the book, studying, reading the introduction, maybe she'd give this book a try.

Meanwhile, by the window of a pastry shop with a bagel in hand, there sat a bard, an aspiring writer who watched Roseanne. She smiled at how focused the girl was with her book, and she smiled even more when the said girl showed up at the shop's door. She observed the girl while she looked for a table, but the whole place was packed. Sighing, Roseanne headed out the door. "You can sit with me." The bard called out and smiled at her, Roseanne reciprocated and showed gratitude as she sat down, putting her sketchpad on the table. They talked a bit, names and all that, then they stayed silent.

"What are you doing all alone in the city of love?" The bard asked Roseanne who seemed occupied with her sketchpad. "Running away from everything." Roseanne answered as she crumpled another paper, another failed piece. 

"That explains it." Roseanne looked at her. "Explains what?" She smiled at her. "I've seen you running around the streets of France, always in search of something, were you searching for your soul?" Roseanne snickered, laughing pathetically. "Are you a poet or something?" 

"Yes, does it bother you?" She answered, a bit offended by the girl's reaction. "What a coincidence, I've been contemplating whether I should read this book or not, maybe you could help me." Roseanne was about to get the book from her bag when Jennifer spoke. "No, enough about me. What about you, what do you do?"

"I'm an artist, at least I think so." Jennifer perked up. "That's wonderful! I've always respected artists, you give life to everything, it's stunning." Jennifer told her in such a loving, endearing way that Roseanne couldn't stop herself from sketching her. As Jennifer blabbered about her love and adoration for art, Roseanne made art herself. About half an hour later, she couldn't believe what she had done, she had finished a piece, and an exquisite one if she may. Roseanne had found her muse. "Beautiful." She mumbled. 

"You weren't listening." Jennifer glared at Roseanne, the latter smiled shyly. "Of course I was!" Jennifer shot up from her seat and grabbed Roseanne's sketchpad. "What have you been- oh wow." Jennifer was struck, at loss for words. She had never seen such a portrait of herself before, it was flawless, every detail captured. Her heart clenched, she felt happiness cloud her body, but she can't put a word to it, she can't describe what it really is, Jennifer couldn't believe it; this artist, a stranger seated across her, turned her into a useless poet, what good is a bard if they can't find the correct word?

"Is it awful? I'm sorry." Roseanne looked down. "No! It's great, I just, I-" Roseanne giggled at her stuttering state. "Can you be my muse?" Roseanne shot, Jennifer stiffened, but shook her head. "No." Roseanne's smile tinged with remorse, but she managed to give Jennifer a nod. "It's okay, I'm sorry for asking." 

The atmosphere went awkward for a few minutes, but this wasn't going to work, so Jennifer initiated a conversation, which Roseanne hesitantly, but happily participated.

They parted ways after hours of talking, they weren't going to admit, but they both went home with a bit of regret, but nonetheless, they were happy. Roseanne spent the whole night bringing the painting to life, showering it with the colors of her palette, she had never felt so alive before. She traced the girl's lips, Roseanne smiled as she remembered how the girl laughed as she told Roseanne of her mischievous acts. How dare she accuse Roseanne of not listening when all Roseanne could hear was her? She was unable to sleep that night, so she brought out her new book, A daffodil in spring.

"Hello, Mademoiselle. Do you want to go around the city today?" Roseanne spoke through the telephone, Jennifer giggled at the girl's cheery attitude. "Yes, I do." She answered, a smile evident in her tone. "Please meet me at the pastry shop." Roseanne couldn't wait. "You're not going to pick me up?" Jennifer teased. "I would, but you didn't tell me your address." 

"Someone's a lovesick fool." Lisa, her dearest friend who lives next door commented as she plopped down onto Roseanne's bed, acting like she owned the place. "She's a friend." Roseanne replied as she hurriedly packed her things. "A friend doesn't make you giddy within a few days, Roseanne." 

"I found my muse." Lisa bolted at the sentence. "Who is it?! I have to meet her!" Lisa jumped, bugging Roseanne until she agrees, they were always like that. "Fine! I'll introduce her someday." Lisa squinted her eyes, "Let me see your portrait of her." Roseanne sighed and pulled out her sketchpad, there was no point in telling her no, the girl would eventually find ways to see it.

Lisa looked at the portrait in awe, its vibrant colors struck something within her, a feeling of overwhelming joy. She smiled as she hugged Roseanne and whispered in her ear. "I'm proud of you." Lisa sat back and looked at the girl in the painting. "Bravo, Roseanne! I never knew you had such wonderful taste in women, she's gorgeous!" Lisa clapped repeatedly, a proud smile playing on her lips. "I could introduce her to you." Roseanne offered, Lisa looked at her in disbelief. "You're so foolish, someone's already filled my 35mm film. She looks like someone you'd settle down with, don't you like her?" Lisa smiled as images of her lover flashed in her mind. "Now who's the lovesick fool?" Lisa shook her head. "Don't change the conversation, you really don't like her?" 

"How can you judge if I'd settle down with her just by looking at a portrait?" Lisa rolled her eyes. "Why do you keep avoiding the question?" Roseanne laughed, but spoke the following words earnestly. "Her as my muse is enough, her as a lover is asking for too much, she's too good for me, and she's not into girls." Lisa rolled her eyes for the nth time. "You're pathetic, remember when you said Jisoo was straight?" Roseanne groaned. "It was one time! I got you right, didn't I?"

"Yes, because I was flirting with you." They looked at each other and laughter echoed through the halls of Roseanne's dense room, it was absurd, they were never fit to be lovers.

"What do you want to do?" Roseanne asked as they walked through countless streets, they've been going out for the past few weeks, often at random shops. Even though Jennifer refused Roseanne's request, they still met, friends who roamed Paris. Sometimes, Roseanne would bring her sketchpad and a pencil, but she would often get distracted by Jennifer. Most of the times, she would try to persuade the older woman, she would always get the same two letters, but that didn't stop her. "I thought you had something planned." Jennifer waved at children along the path, Roseanne found it adorable.  

"I want to go up there someday." Jennifer smiled, they were below the Eiffel tower, Roseanne looked at her. "If I took you up, would you let me bless my canvas with a portrait of you?" Roseanne smiled, Jennifer scoffed and playfully rolled her eyes. "Maybe." Jennifer teased, Roseanne's eyes widened. "That's all I need." Roseanne held Jennie's hand and dragged her, Jennifer shouted. "What in the world are you doing, Roseanne?!"

"You said you want to go, I'm taking you!" She shouted between giggles, Jennifer couldn't understand Roseanne, there were always no words for her, how she acted, how she made Jennifer feel, Roseanne was a blank page in Jennifer's book.

"How?" Jennifer asked, Roseanne put her finger in Jennifer's lips. "Don't talk." Jennifer nodded. They went to the lift, Roseanne told Jennifer to stay, saying she was going to get her friend. It took ten minutes before she came back with someone. "This is Gabriel, he's taking us up." 

"We're in so much trouble." Jennifer stepped out the lift with a wide smile, she felt euphoric. Circling around, memorizing every part of the city, she can't help but feel grateful. She lunged at Roseanne which startled the girl but hesitantly reciprocated, thank you, Jennifer whispered so softly in her ear. Roseanne subtly smiled, blushing at the girl's response, she loves making people happy, she was used to hugs; but there was something about Jennifer, she wants to always make her happy, maybe Roseanne was addicted to her endearing smile.

"Tell me more about your love for writing." They sat in poorly made wooden chairs, they weren't complaining though, they still overlooked Paris. "When I was this tiny, little child, a woman, probably the age of my mother, gave me a book and a treat, since I couldn't read, I planned on making my parents read it to me. I remember skipping home that day, the vivid colors of trees, grass, the sun, the delightful scent of spring, they all felt like yesterday. My parents read the book, the next day they told me I couldn't read it until I was fifteen, it was the woman's request, written on the book." Jennifer smiled so heavenly, at times like this, Roseanne wants to be a poet; find the right words to justify her beauty, make countless poems about her shining soul.

"And? Have you read the book?"

Jennifer nodded. "It was beautiful, Roseanne. I may have read it earlier, but I have no regrets. It was well-written, the words, the events, everything hit me like an open wound. It's what made me go here, to Paris. I want to do things here; I want to dance until my soul gets weary at the Seine, try every baguette, every coffee, walk through every street, and this, climb the Eiffel tower, marvel at the spectacular city. Once I finish, maybe I could go to another place, try what they have there. I want to do so many things, Roseanne. The book didn't just inspire me to write, it made me want to wander like a lost soul."

Roseanne was amused, her magnificent wings that spread so splendidly took her anywhere she wanted to go, whereas Roseanne doesn't even know if she has wings. Jennifer indeed is beautiful, not Marilyn Monroe beauty, not Audrey Hepburn, not Elizabeth Taylor; Jennifer is her own beauty. Her smile lit up empty streets, her soul moved so elegantly, mingling with the stars, dancing with the moon, since when did Roseanne become a poet?

"What about you, smiling fool?" Jennifer laughed at how wide Roseanne's lips spread, whatever invaded her thoughts made her joyful. "Unlike you, I didn't have such wonderful occurrence. Art was my salvation when my parents cast me out for being... different." Roseanne laughed at the stupid