Tristan lizard swallowed the first coffee of a single gulp. Hot. In the process, he sipped his glass of ice water to soothe the painful sensation, and put away the bitterness that pierces his tongue. Then he enjoyed endlessly vapors of the second coffee, until the delicious smell roasted became cold, mineral and monotonous. The warm glow dragged into the kitchen of his childhood. His mother, relaxed and funny, cook French toast for breakfast on Sunday, while the coffee filter in the Italian coffee maker, put on gas .. In his presence, she never evoked visitors. It does not ignore them either, but there was a silent agreement between them: there was no talk of work at home. Sometimes, she explained in hushed word, timidly, that the following weekend she would be absent and that his boy would sleep one night in the parents of Anthony, who lived at the foot of the hill. She escaped again with the same lover, he knew the voice and smell. The man seemed young and fun. His mother confessed that she had a crush on him. He was a guy who worked in luxury. Fine fragrances, cosmetics and fine watches. What was his name again? A writer's name. Something nerd who does not suit him at all.
Lost in his memories he did not see Antoine cross the threshold of the bar, accompanied by his pretty brunette, with which it seemed, he had decided to spend some time. The latter immediately spotted the table behind where Tristan had his habits. Crossing the short distance between them, Antoine noticed the eyebrows that streaked by a black friend of his forehead, and jaw contracted: Lizard's nose on his second coffee, and in general it was a sign of aside to himself, he was unwise to pull it out. Even the waitress, who languished after him, passed away. Anthony approached, advanced a third chair for his wife, sat beside her and asked in a tone of quiet Tristan tell him the whole story, as if they were pursuing a harmless conversation. Tristan
surprised, opened his mouth to begin to discharge his bad temper, arises when the waitress to take control of the newcomers. Anthony turned to her with a grin.
- Élodie Hello, how are you today? But tell me you're beautiful!
- Hello Anthony. Nice to see you. Hello Mademoiselle. What do you take?
- Two coffees for us and you, Tristan, another coffee to smell?
- Yes. Why not, it's a good idea.
- Then three cafes, Elodie please.
- It works!
Lost in his memories he did not see Antoine cross the threshold of the bar, accompanied by his pretty brunette, with which it seemed, he had decided to spend some time. The latter immediately spotted the table behind where Tristan had his habits. Crossing the short distance between them, Antoine noticed the eyebrows that streaked by a black friend of his forehead, and jaw contracted: Lizard's nose on his second coffee, and in general it was a sign of aside to himself, he was unwise to pull it out. Even the waitress, who languished after him, passed away. Anthony approached, advanced a third chair for his wife, sat beside her and asked in a tone of quiet Tristan tell him the whole story, as if they were pursuing a harmless conversation. Tristan
surprised, opened his mouth to begin to discharge his bad temper, arises when the waitress to take control of the newcomers. Anthony turned to her with a grin.
- Élodie Hello, how are you today? But tell me you're beautiful!
- Hello Anthony. Nice to see you. Hello Mademoiselle. What do you take?
- Two coffees for us and you, Tristan, another coffee to smell?
- Yes. Why not, it's a good idea.
- Then three cafes, Elodie please.
- It works!
The girl walked away, not without casting a long glance at Tristan.
- I wonder if one day you will end up languishing Élodie out a single word from you!
- I know Anthony. I noticed her insistence, but no. I have other things to do than waste my time on this ground. Family and kids is not my thing. I prefer conversation pans, he finished in a slanted smile.
- Well, your friend is certainly not a talker, but when he deigns to smile, it's true that little girls must resist it!
- Oriel, I beg you to set aside that kind of compliment to me. Fortunately, most of the time, Tristan's mouth is. Otherwise, it's true that I will have no luck with the fairer sex that we meet or who frequent this restaurant. Moreover, to put it frankly, I think we would not have retained the loyalty of our customers if I did not spend all my energy to seduce the room when the chef is happy to isolate themselves as a bear behind the wall of her kitchen.
- It what may soon happen to us ... the definitive closure due to a corpse in the closet! Noticed no joke, Tristan.
- You have an idea of his identity?
- Yes. For two minutes. I realized just before your arrival
- Tell ...
- Because of its odor.
- What do you smell? exclaimed Oriel intrigued. You're not serious ...
- I sniffed the corpse, the stench pleasant intrigued. Especially in the feet. One thing bothers me. He kept a sock on it, intact, which suffered no trace of burns. A sock clean and fragrant. So I tried to remember where I had crossed that smell ... frown
Oriel showed a doubtful, slightly disgusted. Antoine had reported in a few words during the journey, the gruesome discovery of the morning: the body naked, shaved and burned. But he had not mentioned the smell of exquisite corpse.
Antoine Tristan knew from childhood was not surprised by the turn of his analysis. By cons, he was intrigued by the direction of his thinking, because he knew the crazy kitchen, its sensitivity to rare and finicky tastes and odors, dexterity facing the stove, he knew little about the individual and his private bubble. Tristan revealed little, always found a way to feint and kick into touch, and concluded a conversation in which he did not wish to answer, by a long silence, then a soft look, but completely closed. When they were children, this silence offered a haven of peace Tristan Anthony respected, as the game resumed his duties soon. Today when everyone ran his boat, Antoine worried sometimes the discretion of its extreme boyfriend. How Furniture those rare moments he leave? Was he really happy outside his kitchen?
Tristan continued its momentum:
- I came across this type during my childhood. I've never seen it, but I know his smell. The scent of her very special socks. Do not ask me how or why, I do not answer. But it is a fact. For years, he came to visit my mother. And the smell was still hours after he left.
- One of your "uncle"? Asked Anthony, who remembered for having crossed regularly in the district, the many lovers Tristan's mom.
- The main, no doubt. Certainly the most consistent. I remember he had a strange habit. He perfumed his shoes: he sprinkled talcum his shoes to avoid sweating. He loved my mother to explain at length his secret recipe, which he was quite proud. It had taken years to find the right mix. It improves the talcum powder, a combination of spices, to which he added a few drops of fragrance English, which he appreciated the elegant signature. But I can not remember his name. My mother spoke of him, calling him his nickname, something of a writer who had fallen on to his birth. Rousseau? Apollinaire? He spent more time in the week, and had never finished at the time of leaving school! I always had to watch the window, check if the coast was clear: my mother removed the scarf tied at the railing. This type was taking his time, talking endlessly, and left the apartment when you could still smell refined his socks! The number of times I've dragged trouble in the street at the foot of our building ... sometimes, I finally come home with you Anthony, you remember?
- Yes, but I did not know the reason at that time. Oriel
spoke in a soft voice.
- You were so lonely at that time? It's a strange life still for a little boy, staying in the street while successive passages lovers. You do not want your mother to abandon you, and allow these men to move in a rush?
- No. Probably because I knew she loved me, she protected me in his own way and with its means.
- And you had no other friend Anthony?
- If there was Momo whose father ran a grocery store next to the building. We would steal candy and fruit, then I make cakes in the kitchen of Antony, when his mother was away for her friends or go to the hairdresser ... Ah! Damn wood!
In a scraping of chairs, Tristan drew back quickly to avoid the trough of hot coffee which nearly spill onto the knees. Élodie brought the instant control when one of the cups had slipped from his saucer, to abut on the table, releasing the dark liquid.
- Oh! Sorry, I'm really sorry ... I do not know where I was head. Wait, I come back I'll get a sponge and wipe all liquid
- No. One moment, do not disturb. Take this.
Lizard handed him a napkin that he had withdrawn a few hours earlier of his restaurant, rubbing the traces of gasoline had so embarrassed before the gruesome discovery.
Élodie took the towel, she slipped a ball format quickly in the pocket of her apron, and went to fetch a wipe to clean the mess. She returned quickly and put away the traces of his thoughtlessness. She knew she had not paid attention to his gestures, when she deposited the cup on the table because she had chosen to admire the dark curls and wide nose, her suitor indifferent. The only good news of his blunder was that she had met her eyes briefly, when he had stretched the yellow towel. Which retained its scent. The scent of his hands. She would cherish that piece of tissue and long hours dreaming stories impossible, but soft .... Long sigh.
- I wonder if one day you will end up languishing Élodie out a single word from you!
- I know Anthony. I noticed her insistence, but no. I have other things to do than waste my time on this ground. Family and kids is not my thing. I prefer conversation pans, he finished in a slanted smile.
- Well, your friend is certainly not a talker, but when he deigns to smile, it's true that little girls must resist it!
- Oriel, I beg you to set aside that kind of compliment to me. Fortunately, most of the time, Tristan's mouth is. Otherwise, it's true that I will have no luck with the fairer sex that we meet or who frequent this restaurant. Moreover, to put it frankly, I think we would not have retained the loyalty of our customers if I did not spend all my energy to seduce the room when the chef is happy to isolate themselves as a bear behind the wall of her kitchen.
- It what may soon happen to us ... the definitive closure due to a corpse in the closet! Noticed no joke, Tristan.
- You have an idea of his identity?
- Yes. For two minutes. I realized just before your arrival
- Tell ...
- Because of its odor.
- What do you smell? exclaimed Oriel intrigued. You're not serious ...
- I sniffed the corpse, the stench pleasant intrigued. Especially in the feet. One thing bothers me. He kept a sock on it, intact, which suffered no trace of burns. A sock clean and fragrant. So I tried to remember where I had crossed that smell ... frown
Oriel showed a doubtful, slightly disgusted. Antoine had reported in a few words during the journey, the gruesome discovery of the morning: the body naked, shaved and burned. But he had not mentioned the smell of exquisite corpse.
Antoine Tristan knew from childhood was not surprised by the turn of his analysis. By cons, he was intrigued by the direction of his thinking, because he knew the crazy kitchen, its sensitivity to rare and finicky tastes and odors, dexterity facing the stove, he knew little about the individual and his private bubble. Tristan revealed little, always found a way to feint and kick into touch, and concluded a conversation in which he did not wish to answer, by a long silence, then a soft look, but completely closed. When they were children, this silence offered a haven of peace Tristan Anthony respected, as the game resumed his duties soon. Today when everyone ran his boat, Antoine worried sometimes the discretion of its extreme boyfriend. How Furniture those rare moments he leave? Was he really happy outside his kitchen?
Tristan continued its momentum:
- I came across this type during my childhood. I've never seen it, but I know his smell. The scent of her very special socks. Do not ask me how or why, I do not answer. But it is a fact. For years, he came to visit my mother. And the smell was still hours after he left.
- One of your "uncle"? Asked Anthony, who remembered for having crossed regularly in the district, the many lovers Tristan's mom.
- The main, no doubt. Certainly the most consistent. I remember he had a strange habit. He perfumed his shoes: he sprinkled talcum his shoes to avoid sweating. He loved my mother to explain at length his secret recipe, which he was quite proud. It had taken years to find the right mix. It improves the talcum powder, a combination of spices, to which he added a few drops of fragrance English, which he appreciated the elegant signature. But I can not remember his name. My mother spoke of him, calling him his nickname, something of a writer who had fallen on to his birth. Rousseau? Apollinaire? He spent more time in the week, and had never finished at the time of leaving school! I always had to watch the window, check if the coast was clear: my mother removed the scarf tied at the railing. This type was taking his time, talking endlessly, and left the apartment when you could still smell refined his socks! The number of times I've dragged trouble in the street at the foot of our building ... sometimes, I finally come home with you Anthony, you remember?
- Yes, but I did not know the reason at that time. Oriel
spoke in a soft voice.
- You were so lonely at that time? It's a strange life still for a little boy, staying in the street while successive passages lovers. You do not want your mother to abandon you, and allow these men to move in a rush?
- No. Probably because I knew she loved me, she protected me in his own way and with its means.
- And you had no other friend Anthony?
- If there was Momo whose father ran a grocery store next to the building. We would steal candy and fruit, then I make cakes in the kitchen of Antony, when his mother was away for her friends or go to the hairdresser ... Ah! Damn wood!
In a scraping of chairs, Tristan drew back quickly to avoid the trough of hot coffee which nearly spill onto the knees. Élodie brought the instant control when one of the cups had slipped from his saucer, to abut on the table, releasing the dark liquid.
- Oh! Sorry, I'm really sorry ... I do not know where I was head. Wait, I come back I'll get a sponge and wipe all liquid
- No. One moment, do not disturb. Take this.
Lizard handed him a napkin that he had withdrawn a few hours earlier of his restaurant, rubbing the traces of gasoline had so embarrassed before the gruesome discovery.
Élodie took the towel, she slipped a ball format quickly in the pocket of her apron, and went to fetch a wipe to clean the mess. She returned quickly and put away the traces of his thoughtlessness. She knew she had not paid attention to his gestures, when she deposited the cup on the table because she had chosen to admire the dark curls and wide nose, her suitor indifferent. The only good news of his blunder was that she had met her eyes briefly, when he had stretched the yellow towel. Which retained its scent. The scent of his hands. She would cherish that piece of tissue and long hours dreaming stories impossible, but soft .... Long sigh.
.... follow
0 comments:
Post a Comment