"Chicago on the Seine," by Camille Bordas
Briefly

I used to tell myself stories on the job, to make it feel exciting-spy stories, exfiltration stories, war stories... Americans I helped repatriate mostly broke legs in Pigalle or crashed rental cars in Normandy.
Eva Glasper exemplified this. She'd died the night before, collapsing after a three-course dinner on the Right Bank... she'd died in a foreign land, alone among strangers.
Read at The New Yorker
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