Part 9: Montel’s Serial Amnesic Flirt | by Bystander In Montel | Oct, 2025

I was all set. I had found my perfect spot.

I’d been eagerly waiting for this moment as I walked down to Montel’s newly revamped town square, right in front of the imposing 18th-century-style Mairie. The day before, our self-congratulatory Mayor had cut the ribbon and declared the end of a three-year construction nightmare that had jammed Montel’s only lively street. According to him, it was a historic moment for the town: all the more symbolic as it coincided with the opening of the Paris Summer Olympic Games.

The once-unsightly central car park (still mourned by many residents for its sheer convenience) had been replaced by patchy shoots of utility grass, a half-filled ornamental pond, and an excess of benches. It wasn’t exactly ground-breaking, but I welcomed the change. I needed to shake up my routine, get some fresh air, and avoid Café Marianne at all costs.

I spotted the perfect bench… the unpopular one, hidden behind a tall tree, just steps from the municipal bins. Like every Wednesday morning, they’d been emptied, so it was safe for me to sit, undisturbed. I settled in, pulled out my notebook, and had barely opened it before I heard:
“Bonjour, Madame.”

I’m still amazed at how my brain, entirely unhelpful when I need it, starts racing like a hamster in a wheel (and on acid) when I get unwanted attention. Is this someone about to ask me the time? (Yes, believe it or not, that still happens in Montel.) Or for directions? Or worse… someone…