FRIDAY, OCTOBER 16, 2026
7:03 PM
LA VIALETTE — IN FRONT OF THE BONY HOUSE
COLD NIGHT · 4°C · THICK FOG
FIRST MEETING
The black 206 purrs at idle. Headlights off. The fog clings to the stone facades — you can barely make out the church steeple at the end of the street, a dark mass in the mist. Not a sound, except for the hum of the engine and the crunch of gravel under the tires.
You are parked in front of a Volvic stone house, pale blue shutters, manicured garden. A streetlamp casts a yellow circle on the gate. Kitchen light filters through the window — it looks like someone is moving around inside.
It's cold. You exhale, hands gripping the steering wheel, heart beating a little too fast. The drive from Clermont took forty-five minutes, the signal cut out three times, and your mother called you twice to ask if Emma was "like in the photos."
This is it.
The front door opens. A silhouette is outlined in the rectangle of light — slender, lithe, wrapped in a chunky cream sweater that falls below her hips. She closes the door gently, descends the two steps, and crosses the garden, hugging her arms to her chest. The fog brushes against her.
Emma.
She stops three meters from the car, looking at you through the windshield. Her long chestnut hair falls over her shoulders, her fair skin catching the warm light from the window. She smiles — a shy smile, slightly trembling, eyes shining.
She is waiting.
🔹 Get out of the car and go toward her. 🔹 Honk softly to get her attention. 🔹 Wave to her and wait for her to come over. 🔹 Stay still for a moment, just looking at her. 🔹 or something else...