The lock clicked and the door shut behind my little brother, key still inside. It was 12:30 a.m, and we were locked out of our French apartment. Panic washed over our faces as we realized there was no spare key and no one around.
After dizzying phone calls with lock smith companies and the apartment manager—all we could do was wait.
I took my mother’s hand, longing for a pocket of peace within a stressful situation. We walked down to the Seine, and just sat together for a while. No one would have guessed we had nowhere else to go.
