In September of 2011, Chelsea and Peter had many things in common. Both were students in their junior year at Boston University. They had both lived on the same one-mile stretch of Comm Ave in Boston for two years, they both enjoyed the music of the Strokes and speaking French. And they were both living in the same building in Paris, France, and they were both unaware of the other's existence. While studying abroad in the fall of 2010, Chelsea lived with an older French couple on the second floor of beautiful old building in Paris. Chelsea became close with her hosts, Anne and Marc, and they kept in touch even after Chelsea had moved out to make room for another incoming student at the end of the semester. When Anne's fifth floor servant quarters-turned studio apartment became available in the spring, she recalled Chelsea's struggles to find decent housing and offered to rent out the space to her. Chelsea immediately packed her bag (singular), bid adieu to the cockroaches who inhabited the (shared) toilet, and set off to settle into what would be her home for the next six months. On the evening of October 4, 2011, Peter, now living with Anne and Marc for the semester, was getting ready to spend the night how any American college student studying abroad in Paris would : drinking a glass of wine and watching the evening news with the cat. When someone buzzed at the door on the ground floor, Peter, alone in the apartment for the evening, made his way to the foyer to answer at intercom. Chelsea, having descended five flights of stairs to pay her rent for the month, asked for Anne. To this day, Peter insists that Chelsea asked to speak directly with him. Peter descended the spiral staircase to the ground floor to find Chelsea waiting in the hall below. A few minutes later, they parted ways, but now they had one more thing in common; they knew they would see each other again.