It was a trying climb up 280 over steps for my carb lovin limbs. I huffed and puffed inwardly, blood vessels threatening to implode and hold siege over my heart. Poker face (and body) ever ready, I plowed through the climb with a breezy outlook. Piece of cake. Easy climb. Dead inside. 🥖🥖🥖 Behind me, Nik could still take a timelapse, ascending effortlessly, gently urging me on. I must have rolled my eyes a dozen times at his infuriating stamina and also perhaps to keep myself from passing out. After what seemed like many years later, we reached the mid level, a resting ground, and went on up to the very top deck. 🥖🥖🥖 The first thing that changed was the temperature. Up there the air never stayed still. Cold lashes of wind whipped strands of hair from my messy bun. I could feel my cheeks flushing over. Nik was in his element, enjoying the cold in his t-shirt. I pressed against him, wrapped my arms around his waist and he with due diligence wrapped his around my shoulders. 'Cold?', he chided softly. 'Mmm..' 🥖🥖🥖 We walked along the perimeter, silently in awe of the breathtaking view that is Paris in all her glory. With the sun setting over the horizon and us smack in the center of the city up the Arc de Triomphe, we watched the sky morph and below us the buildings grow sleepy and then altogether alive again with millions of tiny twinkling, flickering lights. 🥖🥖🥖 The most heavily populated area on the deck was where the Eiffel Tower could be seen. Nik and I weaselled our way to a relatively empty spot and stole a bad photo together. For memory. And such a memory it was and will be. My teeth were chattering, but my heart was warm. We stood wrapped in each other for a while longer, lives on hold, before the descend back to reality.