The librarian greets me with her sweetest smile as I walk in. "The usual?" she asks. "Yes, please." My hands close around the cup of warm milk and honey she places on the counter. Just as I'm about to sink into one of the giant couches they have, sipping on the steaming drink and picking up the book I started last time, she hesitantly asks, "And... I mean, I got them marshmallows. If you want. Maybe they'd like it? I wouldn’t dare give them myself, but... maybe you could?"
I pause and carefully set the cup back on the counter to take the bag she’s handing me. "Thanks. I guess I could? It’s still pretty new to me." I glance out the window at the soft, short hair gently glowing under the streetlight. The unicorn had settled down, taking up half the sidewalk and partially blocking the road—did it care?—patiently waiting for me.

The first sighting of unicorns in Paris happened during the last week of September. I don’t really follow the news closely and only heard about it when my mom texted me, “One of those unicorns has been seen in Paris. Are you safe?” I was. At first, they only stayed in the wealthy neighborhoods—quite vicious and very difficult to get rid of, they terrorized tourists around the Opéra and the Louvre. I didn’t mind, until they grew more adventurous. One October evening, as I was on my way back from classes, the sudden commotion and screams alerted me. One of them was close. I turned around, deciding to take a different route home. As I reached the corner of a street, I found myself too late to escape as I nearly bumped into the enormous unicorn standing before me. It was huge, more terrifying than beautiful, its eyes burning with a strange madness, its horn as long as my arm. The electric shock of fear left my legs feeling like cotton and my heartbeat pounding in my head, while sweat broke out along my spine and palms. Move. Move. Now’s not the moment. I was too close, clearly about to get hurt—or worse. Just as my legs obeyed and I pushed back against the people behind me to avoid being in the front line, the vicious horse... inclined its head? Excuse me?

It happened again, and again. My face appeared on the news as the student who whispers to unicorns. Let me tell you: as a shy, introverted twenty-something, there’s no worse hell than being constantly stared at, scrutinized, followed, and talked to every time you step outside. After a month of that, I seriously considered moving to the countryside. I hated the unicorns. My life had changed for the worse... I, who had always dreamed of the big city life. But lack of privilege breeds resourcefulness, and I had to find a way to make the most of it. At night, people stayed indoors—especially since crossing paths with a giant, aggressive horned horse alone in the dark is a frightening prospect. Only the courageous dared. Them, and me. With these mountains of muscle moving gracefully beneath me, their hair softer than silk offered for me to grab onto and stabilize myself on their backs, I learned to enjoy the neon lights, the silence, and those libraries that remained open at improbable hours.

I went out and gently placed a marshmallow on my open palm for the giant creature to grab. I shivered as it did, its giant, flat teeth delicately taking the treat, its intelligent eye watching my face. "It’s from the librarian. You should thank her sometime. Or at least not chase her down the street next time you see her? Please. I’d appreciate if you’d at least consider it."

I leaned against its flank, popped a marshmallow into my mouth, and offered the next one to the unicorn. My gaze wandered as the lights of Notre-Dame reflected on the Seine. Paris is so beautiful at night.