Legal alien

We park under the castle, drop down to a waterfall stream and wash up at the Préfecture. 
Combine potential terrorism with covid and you get Fort Knox.
The intercom man takes our name, clicks the gate open then tells me off for forcing it.  I always have to have a bet with Mu, so I bet her that he's Arab.  He comes out of a door the other side of the courtyard and he is.  I won.  He takes us across the flower bed, telling me off for forcing the gate and leaves us in the inner chamber.  I know so well the little alcoves beneath the stone vaults.  You pass papers through a slit in a perspex screen, put your finger tips on the machine and watch the préfecture lady's face as she puts the dossier together.
This time however Ukranian flags  were sellotaped on the booth windows.  A man handed Mu's carte de séjour over without the usual 'you can stay in France' flourish.  He's got a lot of work on his hands.
We go to the Café de la Place, as we always do to celebrate our belonging a little more.