She: loves theatre.
He: loves anything out of the ordinary.
She: has a nodding acquaintance with contemporary French playwrights.
He: trusts her taste.
She: wants to see "La Science des reves."
He: wanted to do something more active than go to the movies ("les films sont désincarnés").
She: recommended they see Percolateur Blues, playing at Le Théâtre Les Dechargeurs in the First.
He: paid for the tickets.
She: had met the playwright, had read the play.
He: had to sit with his legs splayed in the too-small rows of the black box theatre.
She: found it wonderfully acted, if a bit histrionic at times.
He: found it painful. Painful because of the way you were sitting? she asked. Well yes, but also painful because it was so sad. But very good, very moving.
She: very well-written, don't you think?
He: yes, and very sad.
She: yes, but life-affirming.
And so and and so forth on the walk to Livingstone, an excellent Thai restaurant she knew of in the rue St-Honoré. He enjoyed his appetizer and said it was a bonne adresse. She was pleased to have brought him to a restaurant he didn't know, he who has lived in Paris for going on ten years now, who has wined and dined the ladies in every restaurant on the Left Bank (while, it must be said, she was being wined and dined in every restaurant on the Right, not to mention a few in Gramercy and the East Village).
She had a luscious curry d'agneau with sticky riz. He had a tangy, spicy beef dish. They consumed a bottle of Australian Shiraz and talked of the future. She explained an important twist in the plot of her novel. He said there should be a comet. She laughed so hard she almost choked. He grinned, pleased with himself.
After dinner, they walked past the Louvre and over the Pont des Arts, stopping periodically to kiss or to extricate her high heels from in between the floorboards. The bridge was crowded with people, the air was warm and the Seine glowed light green under the lights. La rentrée and l'été all at the same time.
She: (hyperbolizing, as the Eiffel does the shimmy) This is it. This is all I ever want from life. (She pauses, and looks at him) Well, that's not entirely true.
(He laughs, they get a cab at Odeon, go back to her place. The end.)