The true horror stories in modern Paris Part 27

The hell-turbo engulfed my apartment.  The invisible but strong force gripped my lungs and pinned me down onto the floor…which transmitted the vibration from the extractor of the restaurant directly into my body.  I had to push myself up with all my strength while losing balance to the vibration from below.   I was fast losing breath and felt the blood pressure rising. 

I managed to stagger towards the small kitchen that was half shielded by a wall.  I gulped water down instinctively in hope to ease my heightened blood pressure.  With my shaking fingers I called Mme. Landlord.  She immediately perceived my distress.  There was concern in her voice which felt like a ray of light in dark.  She promised to come the first thing the following morning to speak to the restaurant.  This small new hope gave me enough strength to go back out to the hell turbo, walk across to the door and leave my apartment.  I ran out of the building, passing the restaurants where guests were making merry with drinks.  Mme. Empathy was flirting away with guests, not shedding a thought to the hell she had subjected me to.  In fact, I did not even exist in her mind judging from her jubilant face.

I could see that the opening party was to continue until midnight, or even later, so I started to roam around.  The beautiful city of Paris suddenly looked ominous.  The river Seine at night looked rebuffing.  You might advise me to move out of the hell apartment, but I had already changed my address several times because of an attempted burglary, crooked locksmiths, a dishonest landlord and rats.  It was not recommendable thing to change addresses frequently if one wants to renew one’s visa in France.  It may spell the end of my humble dream if I moved again and I was no longer young.   And yet, I already knew that Mme. Empathy would not make anything better.

I rang my home in Japan and did a thing that I had not done in many many years—crying to my mother like a lost child.  To be continued.
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