• Really tired, træt, you know? Très fatiguée…

She layed on the bed, not even taking the time to slip under the covers. She turned her back to him, and curled her body in an almost fœtal position. She felt him standing by the bed in silence.

He didn’t know what was going on in her mind, and he didn’t ask. It troubled him, but he respected her mutism. He kept still, wondering if he was supposed to join her, just stand where he was or leave the house…

She had retreated deep in her thoughts. Like she usually did when life was overwhelming, but he wasn’t used to see her like that, and she knew it. Did she feel sorry? Not at all. It was the way she was, and she had never pretended to be otherwise for anybody. He would most probably walk away in a moment, she could already hear his foot steps leading to the front door.

He was tired too. Tired of the fury of the life going on outside her house. Here things were so peaceful even if her world was filled with paradoxes, confusion and riddles. Maybe that’s what he liked about her. What he couldn’t quite figure out. Some kind of childish mystery that clinged in every corner of every room, making each day a surprise. Good or bad.

She suddenly pulled him out of his thoughts;

• Come over here…

He sat on the side of the bed, and stared at the back of her head for a moment, waiting for her to break the silence again. Her long black hair on the snow white pillow. There was something eerie floating in the air.

When he reached out a hand to touch a flock of her hair, she grabbed his wrist, and slowly turned to lay on her back. She pressed his palm on her forehead.

• Laisse ta main sur mon front jusqu’à ce que je trouve le sommeil… Après, tu peux décider de rester ou partir, comme tu le souhaites.

She closed her eyes before he got a chance to answer… And he sat for a while, feeling her thoughts trembling under his palm. Until he felt her mind slip in the world of dreams, leaving him with the choice she had left for him… Folly, or fury…