Chapter 13 Section 12

Jean-Marc had a dream: Chantal had gone somewhere, and he was a little worried, so he went to find her.When he searched all the streets, he found her walking in the opposite direction behind him.He was chasing her, calling her name. When he was about to catch up, Chantal suddenly turned his head. Jean-Marc was stunned to find that there was another face in front of him, a face completely different from hers. , nasty face.But it was none other than Chantal, his Chantal, of which he had no doubt.But his Chantal has a strange face, what a horror, a horror that is simply unbearable. "He held her tightly, hugged her in his arms, sobbing and repeating a sentence: "Chantal, my little Chantal, my little Chantal. "He seemed to wish, by repeating the words, to restore to that altered face its former form, its lost countenance, its lost nature.

He suddenly woke up from the dream.Chantal was no longer in bed.He heard the sound of water coming from the bathroom.Affected by that dream, he felt a desire to see Chantal immediately.He got out of bed and walked towards the half-open door.At the door, he stopped, like a voyeur eager to get a peek at a sexual scene.He watched her silently: yes, that was the Chantal he was familiar with.She was leaning against the sink to brush her teeth, and then spit out saliva mixed with toothpaste.She is so cute and her movements are so childish, let.Mark looked at her and smiled.Then, she seemed to feel his gaze.She turned and saw him standing in the doorway.Angry as she was, she finally let him kiss her pale lips.

"Will you pick me up from the company tonight?" she asked him. At about six o'clock, he entered the company foyer, walked down the corridor, and stopped at her office door.The door was ajar, like the bathroom door that morning.Chantal was in the office with two other women—her colleagues.But at this moment she is no longer the lovely woman in the morning.She was talking in a voice he had never heard before.Her actions were so quick, so rude, so bossy.In the morning, in the bathroom, he found what he had lost that night.But now, this afternoon, she changed again in his eyes. He opened the door and went in.She turned her head and smiled at him, but the smile was mechanical, stiff, Chantal was rigid.For nearly twenty years the French have developed an almost universally accepted habit.When lovers or couples meet, they must kiss each other on both cheeks.But this habit makes people who love each other feel a little embarrassed.How can they avoid this habit in public, how can they not look like a couple themselves?Chantal walked up to him somewhat unnaturally, and kissed him on the cheek.The gesture was so contrived that all it gave them was an awkward taste.But only after a while.He saw the Chantal he was familiar with again.

It was like this every time: there was always a distance between when he met her again and when he re-recognized the woman he loved.Their first encounter was on the mountain.He was lucky to be alone with her immediately.Would he still be in love with her if they had spent a long time together among other people before that one-on-one meeting?If only he'd seen her show her colleagues, her boss, and her subordinate side.Will he still be obsessed with her, fascinated by her?He can't answer.