ne – T

and constant, the kind that seemed

s sketches lined the walls, winter

he Milan showing; the building h

e message came through:

it was a mistake; investor

that I had imagined th

ying a slim lea

the elevator, po

. To what do we

llaboration agreement," Julien said

sional. "Of course. Améli

efore I c

mons

d between us, unread

ile I gathered t

ed doors closed on our reflections, two peopl

de was

st. "You've wor

ee y

ou li

" I said. It came out

. "That wasn'

g above the door. "Liking things here

he said softly. "It remind

ts of fabric stacked to the ceiling, the air al

en slowed, eyes taking in everything, the

urmured, "is quiet

d of concentra

ed. "An

abou

. It feels...

his company, silence is

he understood, thoug

om, where a mannequin stood

of the stitching

aid. "There's movement

ide me, a faint vibration, as

The design team

orway then, voice carryin

satisfactory

lien replied. "Your team wor

or a heartbeat too long. "Miss

eyes. "Thank

Julien thanked Luci

e a copy of the a

cour

e just guaranteed

t change, but I felt the

followed handshakes,

teps fading down the corrid

nt, files in hand,

ke quietly

interest, Amélie. He coll

mons

eavy, as if they bel

o – Int

Julien again, but his

th unusual precision, revising meeting times,

test investor correspond

the folder wi

he pages, th

ay when he pl

dn't s

pe it isn

ed a sm

everyone is drawn to this pla

awa

eep it t

his notes, conve

the day, his gaze

ight, assessing, a presence reminding me that eve

on, an ema

.moreau@more

t: Gra

ut the precision of your work, the way the pieces fit togeth

before forward

almost im

r the records. No per

but left it in drafts

t my reflection in the glass wall, postur

d the mannequins in the atelier: p

e building, the sky h

, thin needles ag

t beneath an umbrella, half-sha

rance, not exactly, but hi

again, the fi

Julien closed his notebook and watc

the way he would before buying a painting: ob

ld himself this, the le

ing the tour, polite, cautious, detached, and how

g surfaces; this one

cien again, perhaps

profe

hought, knowing it

son Devereux stirred

taff, voice steady bu

minutes, though he

the faint echo of strings, an imagined cello trac

ended, she linger

d in fragments: cars

carrying a violin case, the

t it made her

ass and stayed like that until th

ee – The

urned two

e, just a courteous mess

requests a mom

me poised civility as before, b

arried only fragments to the hall, num

offee, Amélie went in, t

entered, the smallest

ed between them; the

y down. "Will that

w," Luc

, your help with the last document was invaluab

an instant. "It was

your work," h

t change, but the edge in

quickly as co

d her breath into rhythm. T

on, Lucien summ

se to acc

to leave, his vo

id quietly, "I don't

stand, m

ure yo

and she left with the sense of

brought reli

y, stepped out into the soft dusk

et stone and perfume

cry of brakes, a saxophone from somewhere unse

but the steam remind

aint music drifting from a nearby café: a cello tr

er skin, settling wher

s apartment, Julien lis

yet his mind replayed details instead: a vo

t untouched, and finally

l moved eas

g, lines becoming shape

shoulder, the

ce where eyes should have

t it

see her a

ness, of

ie stood before the mi

nless, until the movement itself

r own gaze, and whi

d against the windowpane, a pulse

d shadow, waited on oppo