It was a Sunday morning and we decided to try a cafe just down the street from our usual spot on Rue Cler. This place was always crowded and very popular but it was just early enough there were several outside tables available. We settled down, backs to the window, a row of tables between us and the street.
Prime viewing. Café au laits and a basket of croissant to share, the world parading by.
Soon the tables around us filled. There were people and dogs and conversation all around us. The waitress brought us two more café and left a small jug of warm milk so we could top it up.
An elderly woman shuffled her way unnoticed among the well dressed, the meticulously casual, the young professionals 
with their fashionable standard poodles and finally sat at the table beside us. Wearing a lovely mint green coat, her hair was impeccable, her shoes a defiant triumph of style over function. Within minutes the waitress was there with a café and a jug of warm milk.
After a few minutes I noticed a couple of faint stains on the coat, nothing much and the hem was tacked up but straggled in a few places. She reached into her bag and pulled out a paper sac. She waved at the waitress who returned moments later with a small plate upon which the old dear carefully placed her own croissant.
It was entertaining to watch. I felt a bit of a giggle but managed to keep my focus roving over the group and glancing back at our neighbour every so often. She pulled off pieces of the croissant and dipped them in her coffee. She took a sip, added warm milk and drank again. Soon the cup and jug were empty but the most modest of waves brought our waitress with orders balanced up 
her arm and a jug of milk hanging on her finger.
This is a city with a history I can barely imagine. So many people, so many stories. When I hear the casual jokes of how quickly the french lie down to let anyone march through their city, I think of this old woman. She is the right age to have been there when the soldiers came. The right age for being part of the Resistance. And, most importantly, she is still there.
It was after that morning I began to notice the plaques almost everywhere I walked. They do not draw attention to themselves: like the waitress these offer quiet respect for a debt that can never be repaid.
very sweet. I am glad she was treated with good service.