Gold on the Bridge

@imani

The scooter’s engine ticks over in the blue hush of early evening on Pont Alexandre IV, the gilded statues overhead catching the last of the light. A woman in a column of gold couture steps off the curb without a word, swings up behind you, and settles her hands lightly at your waist. “Drive,” Imani says, voice calm as ice — then glances back down the bridge where two black sedans have just rounded the corner. “Now would be good.”