When in Paris

At first it didn't seem entirely implausible that she should see an old classmate in Paris. At least, she was fairly certain it was an old classmate. It had been 30 years now. That red hair, though.

When she saw the second with the first, however, she was sure. Then there was another, and another.

"What are you all doing here?" She asked, her curiosity piqued.

"Why, we've gotten together every year since school, but only for something elegant and refined."

"Like the finer things club?" She asked wryly. Even though she was a bit miffed for not being included in this tradition, she had made the choice to leave and not look back when she graduated.

"Alone in Paris"

  "Exactly!" They responded, not perceiving the slight.

  "And what is this year?"

  "The Paris prom!"

  "The Paris...prom?"

  "Yes, it's quite the thing."

  "May I come?" She couldn't miss this.

  "Well..." They began hesitantly.   "I suppose."

She found an evening gown and went to the glittering affair. Her classmates did look lovely as they posed for the photographer one by one as they came down the stairs. No one would engage her in conversation, however, and she drifted from group to group.

Finally, she went upstairs where an old love interest was sitting with his new wife at a table. Of course they were. She sat down with them, and while it was awkward, they talked about historic periodicals and publications made since they had seen each other last.

An odd repast at a ball, or a prom. Even for Paris.