The French brocante is my happy place.
My heart literally leaps when I see the stands.
French Husband knows to stop the car and let me get out, before he goes to park it.
My feet carry me to my favorite dealers, but my eyes peel every stand in between.
Brocante Bug medicine was needed. I took it in gulps. Oxygen. Blood. Drug. I took it straight up and dove in for more. Overdose does not happen.
The French Brocante never disappoints. Never. Happiness is assured.
Leaning on the dealer's truck a theatrical piece smiled.
I winked back.
Fresh air gulped.
The dealer annouced a price that made French Husband do a double take in a good way. He whispered, "Why so inexpensive?"
"Because it is the Brocante Bug giving me a shot of love."
"Where are you going to put it?"
"In bed with us?"
"Under the bed?"