Daniel was turning the corner of the detour street when the storm broke. He immediately looked around, looking for shelter, when he saw a bar. He ran inside to escape the rain. Behind the bar, the waitress was standing still and looking out the large bay window onto the street. Daniel also turned around. A flash of lightning streaked across the sky like a crack and lit up their silent faces.
Daniel, like a ghost, slipped quietly onto the nearest bench. He directed his gaze towards the street. The window faintly reflected his face, crossed by the lights of the cars that glided in the falling evening. A radio was playing a barely audible song from a past time, enveloping the place in a tenderly nostalgic atmosphere.
Daniel shunned places where loud music overpowered everything and salesmen were on top of you as soon as you crossed the threshold. He leaned against the backrest. He would take off his jacket later. The waitress was wiping a glass slowly, as if time had no right over her.
He kept his eyes half closed for a moment. When he opened them again, he saw the movie posters that decorated the walls. He lingered for a moment on the one for Paris, Texas. Since he had retired, his perception of time had changed and he no longer cared about its passage. Little by little, he had begun to escape the slightest constraints, organizing his outings according to those of the majority. He left his apartment when others went home, and vice versa, carefully avoiding peak hours and crowds. He liked to say that he lived between the hours, that he had become a shadow.
Daniel was part of a special, invisible community whose members had the ability to recognize each other at a glance. Some of them dated each other, while others preferred their solitude. For a while Daniel had been one of those. And then he had come out of his reserve to exchange a book or a few whispered words, always away from the busy passages. That evening he had just picked up a book before being surprised by the storm. He had put it on the table. He unfolded the cloth that protected it and took off his coat.
The waitress approached with a small notebook. Daniel raised his hand toward his book. He still had time, with a gesture, to make it disappear in his coat. But something about the way she walked, the way she looked in another direction, seemed familiar. He refrained and took the menu to show her what he wanted to take. As she wrote down the order he watched her and noticed her gaze resting on the cover of the book.
- Do you know it?
- I haven't read that one yet
- I can lend it to you if you want
- Really?
- Books are meant to be passed around
- You won't miss it?
- The knowledge contained in this book is precious but nothing can replace experience. Books are doors that open new ways but it is up to us to use them and maybe change our lives
- You know I'm just a waitress, like my mother. She worked in a bar on rue de Vaugirard. She knew a man there twenty-five years ago, who disappeared after I was born
Daniel swallowed and turned pale.
- Are you all right, sir?
- I'm fine, I'm fine
- I'll prepare everything for you then. And thanks for the book. If I'm not on duty when you come back, I'll leave it here.
She was leaving when Daniel stopped :
- Excuse me but what is your mother's name?
- Martha, why?
- For nothing, for nothing, thank you
Daniel watched her walk away and turned his head to see the rain falling - maybe also to hide that tear that was running down his cheek, like the drops that were running on the glass. "Martha, why didn't you tell me?
The rain suddenly stopped and, in the middle of the clouds, the moon appeared.
