— I do remember she casually asked if you had a girlfriend. I said you weren't interested, right?
— You didn't!
Boys? I've known so many. They're cute until they discover snowballs and chestnuts.
He's understood. He's going to put his teaspoon down, dip his finger in the sugar, turn around slowly, and speak to me.
Nino is late. Amélie can only think of two possible explanations.
Firstly, that he didn't find the photo.
Secondly, before he could assemble it, a gang of bank robbers took him hostage. The cops gave chase. They got away, but he caused a crash. When he came to, he'd lost his memory, An ex-con picked him up, mistook him for a fugitive, and shipped him to Istanbul. He met some Afghan raiders, who took him to steal some Russian warheads. But their truck hit a mine at the border with Tajikistan. He survived, took to the hills, and became a Mujaheddin. Amélie refuses to get upset for a guy who'll eat borscht all his life in a hat like a tea cosy.
Deprived of playmates, tossed about between a neurotic and an iceberg, Amelie retreats into her imagination.
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