He's sitting next to me, on that granite ledge, he's looking at the horizon and I can't help but watch his face.
In his hands is a photo album, he opens it, I glance over his shoulder.
– Do you remember Hannah? That day ? It was raining in torrents and the mud under our shoes had ruined your grandmother's floor.
Yes I remember we were still children and we had a terrible cold. Dad found it funny to immortalize the scene in the entrance to the old building.
– Look at my face in this picture! It was when we won the only game of the season and you were made up in the colors of the team, on my fifteenth birthday, you were beautiful.
You're too nice, I just look stupid.
– There it is when you obtained your license, I was jealous as a louse not to have it before you, and that it is you who lead us to the school or to the parties.
I miss this car and those carefree moments too.
– January 20, after many years I finally managed to jump in the water and kiss you, it was the Saturday when we celebrated the end of Marc's studies.
Yes ! Your outfit still leaves a lot to be desired, and look at your shoes! The law must prohibit these horrors, to preserve the sight of mankind.
– Our five years and our trip to San Francisco, what a city and what a stay. It was wonderful.
I remind you that this is your professional trip and that I am with you because you feel guilty about leaving me alone during the end of year holidays. But you're right, it's still fantastic.
He turns the pages again, the years go by; the faces, the places, the memories.
– Your dress ! You were so beautiful, when you arrived at the arm of your father at the town hall, I was happy as a pope. How could you say yes to me and want to spend the rest of your life with me?
Because nobody would have wanted you I believe, certainly your character.
He smiles as he turns the last pages of the album.
– The renovation of our house, the one your grandmother left us, the headquarters of our childhood. It was really hideous before we spent all our weekends and all our savings there.
Yes but it is with us.
The last page arrives, the last photo, emotion takes over, he holds back a sob, I know it, I know it by heart.
– You and me in that damn attic …
I glance compassionately at him, I try to meet his gaze, to no avail.
– I'm tired of jet lag so don't blame myself if I can't find the words. She accepted my request and we are getting married next month. I had some papers to sign for the sale of our house, hence my presence here.
He gets up and turns to me, takes off his wedding ring, places it delicately on the granite step and covers it with a bouquet of flowers.
– I miss you Hannah.
He walks away, album in hand, the only vestige of our history, and I look at my name on the grave.
I miss you too Mathieu.