A/N: This is a story I wrote as a culture assignment for my French class after watching Amélie. I know it's a little corny, but I figured I'd share it here anyway. The French isn't perfect, but I think it gets the idea across if you know French. If you don't, there's always online translaters. Please review.

Disclaimer: I do not own Amélie or its characters.


On the twenty-third of July, 1998, at exactly four forty-six PM, a dog barks at seventy six decibels, waking the six-month-old baby of Madame Bonnent from its nap. Moments later, in a café in Paris, a waiter spills an order of two sodas and an Orangina. At the same time, a euro coin falls from the pocket of a man riding a bicycle onto the Rue Mornay. The coin sits unnoticed approximately one-tenth of a kilometer from the Cannal Saint-Martin, where Amélie Poulain is skipping stones.


Amélie watched as the last stone she had in her pocket sailed through the air and onto the water of the canal. It bounced of its surface three times before plunging under. Content, Amélie watched the ripples the stone created move outward, remaining concentric to the point where the stone had sank, and faded. She thought about everything that had happened to her in the past year, feeling her happiness swell.

It had been nearly a year since she had met Nino Quincampiox. In the time she had known him, she had grown closer to him than she had to anyone else she had known. For the first time she didn't feel estranged from the rest of humanity, which was a pleasant change from the loneliness she had known from childhood.

She began walking home, her cheerfulness translating into a bouncy gait that was nearly skipping. A smile was fixed onto her face, beaming out at the Parisians and tourists passing by on the streets. Most didn't seem to notice, but a few who did smiled back. The sense that she has done something good by making these people smile and share in her happiness adds to her pleasant feelings. Suddenly, she feels as though she is floating.

All the way back to her apartment in the district of Montmarte she drifts, hardly noticing the busy city around her. At the small food stand outside her building, she stops to buy some fruit to eat with her dinner tonight. As she looks over the produce, deciding what she wants, she lightly dips her fingers into an open sack of grain. She enjoys feeling each of the small particles that press against her skin.

"Bonjour," Lucien greets her. He has been running the stand efficiently on his own since Mr. Collignon moved out of the city last September.

"Bonjour," Amélie replies, "Donnez-moi deux figues, s'il vous plait."

She watches with patient interest as Lucien carefully looks over the stock, selecting the two finest figs he can find.

"Tiens," he hands the fruit to her, wrapped neatly in a paper bag.

"Merci, Lucien." She takes the bag and walks over to the door of her building.

Her plan is to call Nino before making dinner. She sets the bag of figs on the table. As she does, she hears the phone ring from its place on the sofa. After the second ring she has rushed into the living room.

"Allo?" she says as she answers the phone.

"Allo, ma loutre," Nino's voice says over the receiver. Amélie still may not be anyone's little weasel, but she does enjoy being Nino's little otter.

"Ça va, Nino?"

"Bien. J'ai une surprise pour toi."

"Ah bon? Qu'est-ce c'est?"

"Rencontreras moi à la gare à cinq heures et quart."

"D'accord. A plus tard."


At exactly five-fifteen, Amélie walks into the same train station where she had first seen Nino searching for the torn fragments of discarded photos to add to his album. It was a quirk of his she found endearing, though she knew some considered Nino's choice of collection bizarre. She headed over to the photo booth now, expecting this to be the place Nino would be.

Strangely, when she arrived there, she didn't find her boyfriend searching under the booth as she had expected. The area was void of people. Puzzled, she turned to leave, deciding to wait for Nino back at the entrance. As she walked away, she heard a sound behind her.

Amélie turned and saw the space behind the photo booth's curtain briefly illuminated with the flash of the camera. She walked over and peaked at the strip of photos that slid from the outer slot of the booth. With a pleasant amount of surprise, she noted that the picture was of Nino. She picked up the paper. As she looked closer, she noticed the photo showed Nino holding up a small sign.

Another strip of photos was produced from the slot. Amelie lifted this one and read the single word that was printed on the second sign. She held her breath as two more sets of photos slid out, identical but for the words on the sign Nino held in each. The four words of the four signs in the four sets of pictures were before her now, spelling out one question: Voulez-vous épouser moi?

A gasp escapes Amélie's lips. She pulls back the curtain to find Nino, not holding a sign this time, but a small black box, opened to reveal a ring. A smile much bigger than the one she had worn earlier that day walking home spreads across her face. Her heart pounds excitedly in her chest.

Elated, she answers in the affirmative. As she does, Nino leaps up from his seat inside the photo booth. At precisely five-twenty-one, they kiss in an empty section of a train station near an old photo booth. That same moment, a business man was running to catch his five-twenty train, hopping it hadn't left yet. If he had slowed down enough to glance over at the photo booth, he would have noticed something much more amazing than an over-grown camera. He would have seen two people in love sharing one of the happiest moments of their lives.