And then the mill was empty. 

Nico went 'down' to Paris.  
I can't get my head round that one because Paris is several hundred miles north of here, but for Nico it's like entering  Dante's inferno and the only way is down and into hell.
There are worse places than Paris, for sure, but when he turned right towards Toulouse and I turned left towards the hills, I felt a pang of pity for him.
After the hills I found Emma with Mr B at Atmospher.  At 12 on the dot we were at a table in the Commerce drinking rosé and eating foie gras.  At 3 we'd been turfed out into the courtyard where we drank coffee and cognac and quizzed the widow B on his new girlfriend who lives down in Devon and who he's known for a lifetime (same old)
L and B were chain-watching the Bolshoi's Giselle over a bottle of wine.  I had a glass with them and promised myself not to tell my brother that they'd slipped alcohol into the house.
And then there was an eternity before me.  I realised that I've not been alone for 30 years.   Time goes so slowly.  I lit a fire agin the impending gloom and went to bed at nine.