The corner of my mouth twists into a smile. Is Jean-Luc flirting with me? Part of me likes him toeing the line after our emotional last parting. It’s encouraging that we can forget the whole thing and move forward these next four days.

Footsteps come fast and quick around the corner, children’s voices blurring together at a high-pitched frequency. I look up as they hurtle past the restaurant and a small hand snatches my phone from my lap. Before I can react, five pairs of feet take off running faster than I would, had I not been sitting buffaloed in my chair. Their laughter carries from the corner crosswalk as they sidestep a group of teens and disappear from view.

“I lost a camera to those little vagrants my last trip to Paris.” The woman sitting alone at the table next to me shakes her head. Her accent is American, and she wears a baseball hat with the words Las Vegas stitched across it. She leans conspiratorially toward me. “Sip your coffee with both eyes open—my advice.”

I nod, not fully absorbing her tip. Instead, I stare in the direction they barreled. My phone is gone. Gone?

Regroup. Losing my phone is a serious blow—to my afternoon, my search, and all the notes I was keeping on it—but I have no desire to rant about it with a stranger, and all my files are uploaded to a cloud storage platform anyway. Although my phone was old by technology standards—almost two years—it will fetch a good price on the black market. Judging from their faded clothing and dirty knees, those kids (or their parents) need the money more than I do.

Seriously? Now is when I get all humanitarian?

I have no phone. I’m in Paris. With no phone.

“You don’t live here, right?” the woman asks. Large sunglasses dwarf sagging, rouged cheeks. “You’re visiting?”

“Yeah, just for the week.”

“Do you need to call someone? Maybe your hotel?” She offers up her phone, a BlackBerry with built-in keypad.

My only source of contact with home, and the tiny circle of people I know in Paris, is probably halfway to Normandy by now. No doubt clanging around with a few other phones, tablets, and pairs of earbuds in one of the backpacks I saw bouncing along. Valentin has no way of reaching me. Cold shock drips through my body, fully absorbing the significance.