The first time I stood on Pont des Arts, Paul passionately kissed me, then fastened the padlock to the barrier. It was engraved with our initials, with FOREVER emblazoned across the centre. I didn’t hear the plop, as I watched the key hit the water.
A few months later another lock was wasted.
Christopher had used permanent ink to draw red hearts and our two names on the front of it. Again, I saw a key hit the flowing river and disappear in the murky water.
Both locks are probably still securely fastened there, but useless without their keys.
Today, I’m back on the bridge, with Pierre this time. Eventually I manage to find a space on the handrail and clip the lock onto it. No words about securing our future or being together forever; just a brief hug.
I’ve learnt the lesson.
Slowly, I spin the number dials.
I’ll remember the code, just to make sure this one isn’t totally wasted.
Published: Paragraph Planet
