595 Quotes About Paris

Olivia’s arms are suddenly heavy from holding herself up, she takes the rungs one at a time and drops as quickly as she can. Her legs are shaking. The last section of the ladder to ground level is missing for security, she reaches the last step and looks down.

She walks to the white board and wheels it round to face him. She writes ‘Motive’ and ‘Suspects’ at the top of the board. She doesn’t turn to look at him but knows his eyes are burning.

She can feel the water in her eyes and blood in her veins. He moves to enter the room, she steps to one side and closes the door behind him.

The question stays in the chasm between them, both of their minds processing fast to anticipate the next move. A game of chess where all the pieces are their emotions.

The continual dynamism of humanity, always moving, always running - from something or toward something, it doesn’t matter which, as long as you are busy.

No sound pervades the space. Her footsteps create the only life in the emptiness. She walks through to the bedroom. His body lies on the bed, a single tiny drop of dried blood on his left temple.

London may have more money and Vienna more culture; Rome may have more history and Paris more style. But Glasgow has the biggest heart.

The man immediately grabs the woman and pulls her inside of the building. The front door slams shut, the noise echoes along the front of the houses opposite.

His body takes the impact of the young woman’s momentum and he groans as her weight lands against his stomach. They fall together, towards the table, she lands first and swivels to avoid Jean Luc’s hands as they reach out.