“Kidding you about what?”

She slapped a hand over her mouth and stood frozen for at least five seconds. When she regained her ability to move, she pulled out her phone and fired off a text to her best friend Sophie in New York:

Protocol re: going to the bathroom in full earshot of a male coworker?

She added the poop emoji to make things clear.

Sophie answered back within seconds, a clear sign that her newborn was struggling to sleep on a schedule.

I demand full details later, but for now, abort. I repeat ABORT.

“But I can’t abort!”

Mira couldn’t believe this ridiculous dilemma was currently a thing that was happening. But was she really to blame? All her life, people and entertainment and advertising messaging had trained her to believe that the body’s miraculous functions were embarrassing and gross. She made a quick mental note to write a strongly worded letter to society when all of this was over.

In the meantime, she gave Sophie a thumbs-up and stared at the cheap wooden panel in silence. After what felt like minutes, it came to her.

“Hey, Jake?”

“Yeah?”

“Remember that convenience store that was down the street from the hotel?” she asked, doing her best to sound as sweet as possible.

“Not really.”

She suppressed the urge to punch a hole through the cheap panel. “It had a sign that said Tabac. Remember?”

“I dunno, maybe.”

“It was definitely there,” she said through gritted teeth. “When you exit the hotel it’s across the street and to the left.”

“If you say so.”

“Yeah, anyway, could you go down there and grab a couple bottles of water? Because we’re probably dehydrated from all that running around.”

“I actually feel fine.”

She was officially on the verge of ripping her hair out. Or his.

That stupid greasy mop.

“Okay well I feel extremely dehydrated,” she said. “So could you get me a water?”

“Sure. All you had to do was ask.”

Mira silently screamed at the thought of this maddening creature shaped like a man. Once she’d recovered, she slid open the panel and handed him the room key. “Thank youuu,” she said sweetly.

Jake took the key and set about his task, with Mira watching his every move as he shuffled out of the room. When the door closed behind him, a flood of relief washed over her, but there wasn’t any time to waste.

One small step for embarrassed womankind . . .

Six

M

Not long after, Mira was refreshed, dressed—in jeans and a summery pink tee—and ready for a day of Paris bucket list fun. It was incredible that only a few hours ago, Mira had assumed she would only get to try some famous French toast before heading back to New York. Now though, with a missed flight and another twenty-four hours in Paris left to go, it was time to put her bucket list in the driver’s seat. She wouldn’t be able to get through it all—since there were multiple categories, pages, and enough items to keep her busy for at least a week—but she had every intention of crossing off some major items.